


Us After

by angeter1



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 100,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeter1/pseuds/angeter1
Summary: "She knows that there’s no way sex is on the table tonight. But she's laying in bed with a girl with strong arms and the softest skin she's ever had the privilege to touch, even marred with battle scars as it is. And still, there's a party in Clarke's stomach, and it's getting pretty fucking wild."Follows Clarke and Lexa after Pike's displacement. A lot of fluff at first because they deserve it but will actually have a story.





	1. One

For years and years to come, Clarke will associate the feeling of contentment with tonight. Arkadia is once again free of totalitarian control as Pike and his associates were taken down. Not without a lot of blood spilled, sadly. But Clarke doesn’t dwell on this too much – she has come to terms that life on the ground involves a lot of death and grief. And she still feels these of course. But there’s always time to feel them a little more when she’s by herself.

 

Tonight though, she will relish on the fact that this is one more day most of her people are alive. It is one more day she gets to spend time with her loved ones. One more day there is peace, however temporary it is.

 

For even though death and grief are very prevalent in their lives, she finds that there’s also relief, happiness, even  _pleasure_.

 

Clarke visibly shivers as she thinks of that last part. She quickly shakes her head at herself since there’s only one person her brain conjures in association with that word and if it were possible for anyone to intrude on her imagination right now, she wasn’t so sure who would die of embarrassment first. Her or the intruder.

 

Probably her. Most definitely her.

 

Scanning the crowd around the campfire, she is glad that no one seems to notice her change in demeanor at her inappropriate train of thought or the blush that seemed to creep up her face all of a sudden. If anyone does, she could easily blame the heat from the fire or the moonshine being passed around by both Skaikru and grounders that she swears comes back to her every ten seconds even though there’s about twenty people around the circle.

 

She doesn’t so much mind as her nerves are getting the best of her and she needs to relax.

 

The battle is over with and she can breathe a little easier knowing that peace amongst everyone on the ground is so close. That it’s not just a dream anymore and maybe, just _maybe_ she and a certain someone can finally have their promised someday. The alcohol helps loosen her tense body a little but her mind is anything but quiet. After all, this was the first time in over a month that she has seen Lexa after she left Polis. After she left her in bed in Polis. After she left her practically  _naked_ in bed in Polis. Oh god, here it is again.

 

“Clarke? Helloooooo,” Raven nudges her hard on her ribs making her wince a little, “I was telling you my epic story of how I saved everyone, yet again, and you weren’t paying attention.”

 

The blond takes another swig of the moonshine and passes it to Raven, “I was there remember? And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been adding more and more to your role every time you tell it. You did not jump from the top of the building and didn’t break both of your legs  _or_  fight someone with a sword  _OR_ blocked a bullet from hitting me."

 

Raven makes a mockingly offended face, “I did all of those things when you weren’t looking! I saved your life and you didn’t even know it.”

 

Clarke chuckles and decides to just let it go. She gets lost in her own thoughts once again.

 

“You know you can just barge into her tent right? She wouldn’t care,” Raven leans over and whispers loudly as Clarke looks away from the commander’s tent. She didn’t realize her eyes have been inadvertently gravitating towards it. Was she that obvious? And really, did Raven really have to say it out loud?

 

Clarke doesn’t miss the curious stares they get from several people around them. She pretends to not notice, not saying anything and actually considers it for a moment. I mean, she's done it plenty of times before. Before the mountain and even after while staying in Polis as an ambassador when she would barge in to the throne room during Lexa’s important meetings. And she was never reprimanded for it. Lexa would initially look annoyed, that quickly changed to amused and even impressed when Clarke proved she actually had something worthwhile to add to the conversations. Though when she thinks back on it now, she realizes that her actions were immature and reckless. And even though it had only been several months since she had first done it and was not immediately killed on the spot, she's now older and wiser. Or at least she likes to think so.

 

Regardless, she can't shake off the feeling of giddiness from seeing the commander. And with the warmth of moonshine in her stomach increasing her confidence, she is quickly running out of reasons of why the hell should she not go to the commander's tent.

 

She had only seen Lexa when they arrived at the Arkadia gate and after her moving speech following the battle. Other than a couple of glances here and there, they hadn't had time to speak in length. Clarke knows that she looked like she was barely concealing her own desire to throw her arms around the other woman, as she literally had to grasp her own thighs on her sides to keep them from reaching out. But the brunette, ever the stoic leader only took a moment to roam her eyes on the blonde presumably to check for injuries before putting her commander mask back on and looking away.

 

Lexa had then disappeared inside her tent with several generals and hadn’t come out for the festivities ever since.

 

Clarke wonders if things between her and Lexa had changed because of this whole Pike thing. Familiar insecurities now blooms inside of her, replacing the lightness she felt just a moment ago. Maybe Lexa thought it was a mistake. Maybe it was just a heat in the moment type of thing and Clarke was just there. Maybe there’s someone else. Maybe she didn’t enjoy it.

 

She hopes her feelings are still reciprocated, but then again, they never really voiced them, did they? They didn’t have much time to really put them into words since they were busy doing other things. And really, even if they did have time, she suspects neither of them could truthfully explain what they mean to each other. That’s just the way it’s always been with Clarke and Lexa.

 

She doubts there's someone else, for as much as the commander likes to make everyone think she believes love is weakness, Clarke remembers all the times the other woman's gaze stayed on her and only her, even when there were so many others in the room. She also definitely doubts Lexa didn’t enjoy it. If her memory serves her right, the commander enjoyed herself so much she left a bruising, biting mark on Clarke’s shoulder that just started to fade several days ago. Clarke had chastised her before she left Lexa’s bedroom that day, but she secretly really liked it and was hoping Lexa would do it again.

 

Her hand reaches for that spot on her shoulder she knew the mark was situated. Her eyes close for a moment as she recalls exactly how she got it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_They were breathing hard, unable to really say much after losing count of how many times they've brought each other to climax. They were glistening in sweat and pleasure and Clarke wished that they at least cracked a window open as it was getting kind of warm in the room._

 

_But in reality, neither of them really cared. They wanted to be as close to each other as possible with Clarke laying on top of the commander, head resting on her chest and legs interlocked in the most intimate ways. Though admittedly, the girl beneath Clarke looked nothing like the commander at that moment._

 

_She pushed herself up on her elbows to appreciate the sight for a moment. Lexa, with her unruly curls splayed all over the only pillow left on the bed, the other ones tossed to the floor haphazardly during their activities. Her eyes were closed and her mouth had a tiny hint of smile that screamed happiness. Clarke gently traced the brunette’s unfairly perfect jawline which elicited a happy sigh from Lexa. She couldn’t help but smile at how cute the commander was being._

 

_Her eyes roamed some more on Lexa’s features, attempting to memorize every single part of her. She inhaled quite loudly, in hopes to never lose the natural scent Lexa seemed to have. The scent so contradictory much like the woman it belongs to. Like smoke and fresh flowers. Like sunshine and grass after the rain. Simply, like the ground. She smells like the ground and Clarke loves it so much. She loves it so much for she didn’t expect to make it to the ground in her lifetime, yet here she was, fully consumed by the human embodiment of the very thing she could only imagine when she was in space._

 

_The commander slowly opened her eyes at that and chuckled a little, “Are you sniffing me, Clarke?”_

 

_Clarke would have surely blushed and hid her face in embarrassment had they just not spent the past hour exploring each other’s bodies. However, this moment felt different. Like they were meant to be doing this all along. Teasing rather than only acknowledging each other with short-clipped sentences like they have been doing in the past weeks. Openly admiring each other, rather than averting their gaze when they’ve been caught longingly staring for too long. Caressing each other’s bodies with comfort rather than flinching and tensing when the other got too close._

 

_Clarke answered with a smile and another exaggerated inhale and kissed Lexa’s nose, “I just want to remember this. I want this ingrained in my mind forever.” She kissed every part of the brunette’s face, hoping to drive her point to home. Hoping to make Lexa understand that she didn’t want to wait this long. That she regrets that a war had to be coming their way for her to realize that she was ready. That she’d been wanting to do this for a very long time. That she didn’t want this to be the last time._

 

_She kissed her soundly on her lips. “I want to remember your adorable face,” Clarke continued._

 

_The commander tried to pout but hardly succeeded, “I’m not adorable..”_

 

_“Mmm, yes you are,” as the blonde continued kissing her neck. "I want to remember your scent," she said in a husky voice as her nose brushed against the flesh that made Lexa giggle as much as phlegmatic leaders can do so. She had let herself truly laugh about seven times in the short time they've spent in bed. Not that Clarke was counting. Except she totally was and she knew from hearing the first one, that she'd happily and stupidly do absolutely anything to hear that over and over again._

 

_The fit of laughter was quickly replaced with a soft moan as Clarke ducked her head down with a smug grin and licked at a still hard nipple that her mouth leg go of with a loud popping sound, "The way your breathing becomes ragged when you’re about to come.”_

 

_She moved her body a little to the right and caressed the commander’s side, hand slowly making her way down her thighs, causing the other woman’s breath to hitch._

 

_“I want to remember the way your body tenses and then gradually relaxes when I touch you,” she continued as her hand reached its destination._

 

_Clarke pulled back only enough to give room for her hand on Lexa’s newly coated core, but still very close that almost every inch of her is touching the commander’s. She knew that Lexa was more than ready for her as she entered her with two fingers that made the girl beneath her gasp. Her other hand carefully treading the silky unbraided brown locks._

 

_Clarke knew their time was coming to an end and she didn’t waste time as she curled her fingers slow and hard toward the girl’s front wall where she knew she liked to be touched. Lexa’s hands were gripping the blonde’s shoulders so hard Clarke was sure she’ll have red scratches there._

 

_“I want to remember you like this. To hold me over until the next time I see you,” Clarke whispered as she looked down Lexa’s openly affectionate face, not hiding her surprise and elation at what the blonde just said._

 

_Clarke almost melted at the way Lexa was looking at her now. Like she was the rainbow peeking out of the horizons after a torrential storm. Like she was something majestic that she never ever wanted to let go of. She’s seen this look before, of course. During her time in Polis, Lexa tried very hard in the beginning to hide her feelings. But when she realized her unsuccessful attempts to do so, the commander just all together gave up – giving Clarke her full attention at all times with a look of yearning in her eyes that never seemed to want to leave. Almost as if saying, fuck it, here it is. But the way Lexa was looking at her at that moment with the same aching warmth was so much more tangible that it made Clarke’s chest twinge in the most beautiful way._

 

_"Because we will meet again,” she whispered as she rested their foreheads together all the while her fingers were still working. She laid her thumb on Lexa’s clit and as she did, the brunette immediately crashed their lips together in a messy, passionate kiss._

 

_She knew that Lexa was getting close. Her body was tensing in all the right places, breaths coming out in gasps, chest heaving, and the brunette pulled back slightly only to rest her mouth on Clarke’s shoulder. Lightly at first. And as Clarke pumps her fingers harder and she reaches her climax, Lexa muffled the sound of her scream by sucking and biting a spot on the blonde’s shoulder._

 

_The pain barely registered in Clarke’s brain as she slowed her movements and retracted her hand and slowly moved to lay on her side facing the brunette. If anything, she felt every unsaid affection her and Lexa had during that moment. And she wished more than anything that she could just stay there forever._

 

_They both knew that she had to go though. Neither of them had said anything in the past five minutes. Only gazing at each other and kissing each other lightly and lazily._

 

_With all the effort she could muster, Clarke slowly disentangled herself and Lexa reluctantly let her. “I should go freshen up,” she said as she awkwardly stood by the bed and looked around the room to avoid Lexa’s eyes. It was getting harder to control her emotions now that she knew that they couldn't prolong her departure any longer. And she knew that if she looked down at the commander’s naked form and even more naked eyes, she would probably break down. There was simply no time for that. She had people to save. And the reality of their predicament as well as the dread that came with it slowly came back up the surface as their time was nearing its end._

 

_She saw Lexa nod in her peripheral vision and made her way to the washroom. As she was finishing up, she caught sight of her bare form in the long mirror attached to the back of the door. An angry purple mark was already forming on her right shoulder and she finally felt the throbbing ache from it. Despite herself, she chuckled and flung the door open to find Lexa still laying on the bed but thankfully with at least a shirt on this time._

 

_“Look at what you did, Lexa,” Clarke said as she pointed at the mark. She was trying very hard not to laugh. She tried to be mad... She really did._

 

_The commander knew all too well that she wasn’t as she threw the blonde a smirk, “I don’t see a thing.”_

 

_Clarke kneeled on the bed over her and pointed again, “You did that.”_

 

_The brunette reached up and lightly traced her finger over it. She kneeled on the bed too so she was eye level with the irritated girl before her and smiled as she placed her hands on Clarke’s still bare hips, looking at the blonde in a way that made her stomach do crazy flips._

 

_Lexa kissed the mark softly as she all but whispered against her skin, "I want you to remember me too.”_

 

_And really, that did it right there. Clarke couldn’t stop her tears if she tried as she flung her arms around Lexa’s shoulders pulling her close._

 

_“We’ll see each other again,” Clarke repeated as she unashamedly sobbed on the other woman's shoulder, “I will come back. After this thing with Pike is done. I will come back.” She pulled back to see Lexa with her eyes shining with unshed tears. She wished she’d just let them fall this time._

 

_Lexa instead gave her a sad smile, “I know that, Clarke.” She dropped her arms and softly pushed Clarke's stomach. “Now go, I’m not sure which one of us Octavia will attempt to murder if she finds out you’re still here,” sounding a little bit more Heda but still so, so Lexa._

 

_The blonde laughed as she gathered her clothes and got dressed, loving the commander’s rare playful side. She kissed Lexa again when she was done. And again. And again. “Go, Clarke,” Lexa chuckled lightly against her grinning lips._

 

_As she reached out to touch the handle of the door, she looked back one more time. Clarke wished she hadn't. She knew this image would stick more to her mind and she didn't want to remember Lexa this way. For the commander was sitting up now, her head against the headboard, blankets pulled up to her waist watching Clarke intently. Clarke really didn’t want to leave now. Her heart twisted at the sight. Lexa finally let a tear slide down her cheek as she whispered in an agonized tone, “Go, Clarke.”_

 

_And so with tears streaming down her own face, she opened the door and went._


	2. Two

 

 

 

Clarke vividly remembers Octavia’s annoyed expression when Clarke reached her with puffy eyes that day in Polis. The skaikru turned grounder warrior only rolled her eyes and never even bothered to ask Clarke how she was. Not that she would have wanted to talk about it but it would've been nice for someone to ask for once. They didn't talk until they almost reached the gates of Arkadia, forming their plans. Even then, their conversation had been short and rushed, with Octavia replying with as much bite every chance she got. Clarke however, was calm and patient, for she still felt guilty about leaving them and things escalating like they did as a result. Her demeanor only seemed to irritate Octavia even more for some reason she couldn’t truly comprehend.

 

After the battle and their people saved, Octavia still hadn't tried to converse with Clarke, and to once and for all, put this animosity behind them.

 

Even now as she glances at the girl across the campfire right next to her very alive lover, Octavia meets her eyes with a look of distrust and aggravation.

 

Clarke can't help but roll her eyes at that. Because she is honestly just exhausted. She hasn’t had a decent night of sleep in who knows how long. She’s spent all this time worrying about everyone and making sure they had minimal casualties in subduing Pike. She didn’t stay in Polis even when it physically hurt her to leave. And seriously, fuck Octavia. Yes, Clarke made mistakes but who wouldn't when you've been thrusted to an unknown territory with unpredictable circumstances with even more unnerving inhabitants. Clarke is honestly just getting sick of her shit. And she finally may or may not lose her patience tonight.

 

Her inner turmoil is interrupted as the generals start leaving the tent, loudly showing their relief that the long meeting is over. Five minutes pass after the last general had exited, and finally Lexa emerges. And Clarke's stomach does a load of somersaults at the sight. Lexa still has her warpaint on and her full commander outfit, red sash flowing over her shoulder as the wind picks up at that

moment, as if Mother Nature knew to do that right when Lexa came to view.

 

_My god she's beautiful,_ Clarke thinks to herself.

 

Of course she knew that from the very beginning. Even as intimidating as Lexa looked sitting on her throne during their first meeting flanked by her advisors ready to slit Clarke’s throat at any second, Clarke’s racing mind still had a moment to appreciate how the commander had the most symmetrical face she had ever seen. And when Lexa stepped closer right in front of her, Clarke was met with entrancing green eyes that rivaled the color of the vast forest surrounding them at that moment. She was still scared of her of course. Lexa had always had a way of radiating that commanding aura. But Clarke supposed that as dubious as her experience on earth had been, she can be frightened and at the same time a little bit attracted to the leader of the grounders, right?

 

Even after Lexa sentenced Finn’s death and the weeks before the battle at the mountain, Clarke found her fascinating. Even after the heart wrenching betrayal when she was captured for her own safety and they bowed to each other, Clarke found her captivating. Even when she was covered in her own blood during her fight with Roan, Clarke found her enthralling. And  _especially_ the night after that same fight when Lexa came in to her chambers with a dark nightdress on that made Clarke’s mouth go immediately dry, she found her alluring.

 

She knew Lexa was beautiful all those times.

 

But did she used to have this strong of a reaction before,  _before_? Or is it because she now knew exactly what hides under that armor, and she can't wait to peel all of it off again. And again.

 

And again.

 

Simply put, Clarke really needs to get laid.

 

The commander barely looks in her direction and proceeds to talk to some of her warriors while Clarke drinks more than she should and pretends to be interested in the conversation happening around her. But really, her mind can’t possibly concentrate when Lexa is so close but still too far for her liking. She wonders again if what they shared before she left was just a dream. If Lexa thought of that afternoon and used it for solace like Clarke had been doing all this time. She held true to her word that she was going to use it to hold her over until the next time they see each other. During the few hours of quiet she had to herself in her room at night, she would think of Lexa and the way she felt beneath her touch. She’d hug her lone pillow imagining it was her, sacrificing the comfort of her neck when she woke up the next morning. It wasn’t much, but the memory of her and Lexa that afternoon gave her such a sense of serenity that she was able to carry out her plans in hopes that she’ll get to do that again.

 

Clarke fully intends on keeping her other promise that she will be going back to Polis after this mess was done. And now it finally is done and she can’t wait to return, but the way Lexa is acting distant at that moment, Clarke wonders if Lexa would even want that at all.

 

It's disconcerting really, how Clarke spent her first weeks in Polis blatantly ignoring Lexa until she inevitably succumbed to the commander’s appeal. Not just physical, though that was a department Lexa gets an A plus in. But her whole being. She is ruthless but just. Strong-willed but perceptive. She is solemn but doesn’t hide her amusement when Clarke does or say something remotely comical. Lexa was patient while Clarke was healing and Clarke was used to be on the receiving end of her attention while she virtually gave nothing back.

 

And now that they spent some time apart, Clarke longs for those stares that became almost unnervingly piercing at times. For Lexa to get as close to her without touching like she used to when she was feeling bolder. For Lexa to say her name twenty times in a matter of three minutes just because Clarke suspects she likes saying it. For Lexa to throw a fucking bone her way for gods sake. For  _something_.

 

There are tears suddenly escaping her eyes as she stares at the roaring fire. Everyone is very drunk at this point to even really pay attention. She lets the moonshine numb her senses and the aching of her chest she can’t truly comprehend at that moment when she feels a weight on a log she is sitting on tilt her a little bit backwards, startling her. Clarke closes her eyes and breathes in deep. She turns to the source of the added weight, ready to lose her shit and give someone her piece of mind and, “ _Lexa..”_

 

“Clarke,” Lexa says as she meets her startled eyes, still red from crying. Lexa’s brows furrow as she takes in Clarke’s perturbed appearance and the blond immediately turns her attention to the ground, apparently finding the grass much more interesting all of a sudden.

 

Lexa scoots a tiny bit closer as she tries again, “Clarke, is something the matter? You seem upset.”

 

The commander shakes her head at that, just now remembering what happened earlier that day. Because of course Clarke is upset – a good number of her people died and the blonde feels so much for them all the time. It’s one of her attributes that intrigues Lexa the most after all.

 

The brunette clears her throat as she softly says, “Clarke, I know that today was difficult for you. And I wish it could have gone differently. But it had to be done and I hope that you’re not blaming yourself for what happened… Their deaths are on my hands too.”

 

Hearing the familiar words spoken between them the last time they reunited after a war, Clarke instantly snaps her eyes back up Lexa’s, “That’s not why I…”

 

Words can’t seem to escape her mouth as she feels herself drowning in the concern and the brazen adoration written all over the other woman’s features. For here was the commander of the twelve, hopefully thirteen clans again soon – sitting so close with her body fully turned toward Clarke. Her hands clutched together on her lap, clearly itching to reach out, to touch, to comfort. Her eyebrows are still furrowed as she skims her eyes all over the blonde’s face, and _those eyes_. That’s what Clarke had missed. And this is what she’s been waiting for.

 

“I mean yes… that. It sucks that people died but,” Clarke continues. And who says that after a battle? _It sucks that people died_. She clears her throat to try again and considers saying something along the lines of, _I understand it had to be done – It’ll just take time to process it_ or her favorite, _I had to do what was right for my people_.

 

It seems like her brain and her heart aren’t on the same page right now though as her words catch even herself off-guard, “It’s just been really hard without you, Lexa. I’m just glad you’re here with me now.”

 

Because it _had_ been really hard. Clarke always thought of herself as strong and capable. And she is both of those things but she didn’t realize just how much emotional support being in Polis and being by Lexa’s side gave her.

 

Lexa raises her head minutely, cautious eyes roaming the blonde’s face for signs of deception, as if taken aback by the forward confession. Clarke smiles a little at that. She sometimes forgets that she had only really shown her true feelings sparingly when she stayed in Polis. And the few times that she did, Lexa was always very quiet afterwards. Like it was something short of a miracle that Clarke may somehow return her feelings after the betrayal that left the blonde so shattered.

 

Lexa visibly swallows as she quietly admits, “It’s been difficult without you too and I… I just, I _really_ missed you, Clarke.”

 

Clarke’s face instantly lights up like that’s what she’s been waiting for her whole life. Never mind that Lexa protected her from the Ice Queen’s bounty and refused to kill her herself. Or that she allowed Clarke’s people to become part of the coalition even against her advisors’ counsel. Or that she didn’t retaliate when they found three hundred of her warriors dead caused by the very people she protected. Never mind all the subtle ways Lexa showed that she cared like having someone bring her sweets to her chambers every now and then when Lexa found out she enjoyed them so much or that she brought her art supplies when she caught Clarke doodling on a scrap of discarded paper.

 

But the commander expressing it out loud, that she not only missed Clarke, but _really_ missed her, left Clarke’s whole being in a messy puddle she can’t quite comprehend just yet. And what would have happened if Lexa continued to say what Clarke suspected she was going to reveal when she went to say goodbye to her in Polis? She doesn’t know how she would have handled that but she thinks she might have literally turned into a messy puddle for the handmaidens of the tower to clean up.

 

They stare at each other for a few quiet moments, shy smiles adorning their faces until Clarke notices that everyone else around the campfire has stopped talking to watch them instead. Lexa is quick to remedy that by simply glaring at the spectators as if she is going to throw her dagger at one of them at any moment. At that, Clarke hears Raven loudly say, “Sooooo, did anyone catch the game the other night?” Like there was actually a game to watch. Raven really needs to work on her subtle phrases.

 

“Do you want to go for a walk, Clarke?” Lexa asks.

 

“Yes, I’d love to commander,” she replies with the same shy smile she’s been wearing ever since Lexa finally acknowledged her properly.

 

They stand up at the same time and try to ignore the curious and knowing looks their people are giving them. Lexa leads her toward her tent, far away from everyone but veers to the left to where the forest lies. The canopy isn’t too thick this way, letting the bright moon and abundant stars light their way. Lexa walks a little in front of Clarke, seemingly knowing her destination and the blonde itches to touch her without prying eyes on them now. She reaches for Lexa’s hand, hoping to be cute, but in her slightly inebriated state and the darkness of her surrounding, grabs the commander’s ass instead.

 

Lexa freezes at the touch and quickly turns her head to look at Clarke who stares back with wide eyes, hand still not moving from its spot. Even with her face red of embarrassment, it seems that the moonshine is doing its job as Clarke playfully squeezes the commander’s backside a little, causing the other woman to gasp. Lexa looks like she can’t decide if she wants to reprimand her for acting like a child or take Clarke right then and there and Clarke doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the end of another war, or the giddiness she feels with Lexa, but she squeezes again before retreating and doubling over in laughter.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she says between her fit of laughter, “I meant to grab your hand, but I mean… it’s just right there Lexa. It was calling my name.”

 

She watches Lexa’s eyes widen and hears her chuckle, softly at first. But Clarke’s uncontrollable laughter is apparently contagious as the commander chuckles even louder. And god, she missed that too. She stands up straighter, wiping her happy tears this time, still smiling like an idiot, “Lexa.”

 

“Clarke,” she mimics as she steps closer to the blonde not quite touching but radiating body heat that sends a lightning down the blonde’s spine.

 

Clarke finally closes the remaining gap and wraps her arms around the other woman’s neck and Lexa instinctively pulls her even closer by wrapping her arms around her waist. It doesn’t feel awkward like it should. Like they haven’t been skirting around each other’s feelings for weeks and only baring them on a day that was meant to be a goodbye. Like their people weren’t just at war with each other tearing them apart. Instead, it almost feels like how the next day of their afternoon in Polis would have been like if Clarke didn’t leave. When they would have woken up in each other’s arms, teetering from the blissful night they had.

 

“I’ve really missed you too, Lexa,” Clarke whispers.

 

Lexa hums and can’t seem to stop herself as she leans in and kisses her slowly, gently, like the first time. And Clarke really did miss _this_. She pulls away too quickly for Clarke’s liking, “So what was really bothering you earlier?”

 

The blonde groans as she lets her head drop on Lexa’s shoulder, attempting to hide her face, “It’s just… I don’t know. I haven’t seen you in over a month. And then after the battle and the pyre burning, you just left and I thought that maybe…” She knows she’s being juvenile. Lexa is the commander and has her duties and an appearance to uphold. And who is she to take precedence over everyone else.

 

Lexa gently lifts her head with a finger and doesn’t let her finish, “You thought after everything, my feelings have changed?”

 

Clarke dips her head and focuses her gaze on a scratch on the commander’s armor as Lexa caresses her face and uses her finger to make Clarke look at her eyes instead, “Clarke, these past several weeks have been very trying without you. _I’ve_ been very trying apparently. Ask Titus. He’ll have you know that I’ve been so irritable from missing you that he actually suggested storming Arkadia in the middle of the night to capture you and bring you back to me,” she smiles as she sees Clarke’s elated face at her words, “For all his lectures about weakness, I think maybe he finally recognizes it for what it _actually_ is.”

 

Lexa might be telling the truth about Titus finally yielding to Lexa’s happiness, but she doubts the man will ever truly accept Clarke. Not that she really gives a shit. Because was that Lexa’s way of saying how she really feels? Clarke doesn’t dwell on this too much as she herself doesn’t know how to voice her own sentiment.

 

“Does that mean I can go back to Polis with you?” she asks tentatively.

 

Lexa grins as she kisses her softly and declares against her lips, “It would break my heart if you didn’t.”

 

Clarke’s heart soars as she crashes their lips together fervently. She dips her tongue, seeking entrance and Lexa happily lets her. They stay that way, kissing like it’s their first and last time, holding each other like they’ve finally found a missing vital organ from their own body. Clarke feels so much lightness that she hasn’t felt in…ever, really. Because how does Lexa know to say these things to her to make her feel secure when she couldn’t even form a complete sentence the first time Lexa approached her tonight. How does she know that as much as everyone says that actions speak louder than words that she wants both, _needs_ both after everything she’s been through on the ground.

 

“Mmm, you taste unfamiliar tonight Clarke,” Lexa pulls away with a smile, “Are you even going to remember this in the morning? How you said you’re coming home with me?”

 

Clarke laughs and she wants to say, _right now I am home_. But it feels too heavy. Too serious. And she thankfully bites her tongue, “Sha, Heda.”

 

Seeing the commander’s eyes darken at her words, Clarke kisses Lexa’s jaw as she asks, “Want to go to bed?”

 

“I suppose we should. I am very tired as I’m sure you are too.”

 

“That’s too bad.”

 

“You’re drunk, Clarke.”

 

She rolls her eyes at that, “Nooo, I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

 

Lexa laughs lightly as she straightens herself and pulls a very willing Clarke along with her toward camp. Instead of going back to the celebration where Clarke and Raven’s tent is set up though, Lexa leads them to a small entrance at the back of her tent that she zips up closed as soon as they’re inside. The tent looks exactly how it looked like before the battle at Mount Weather. And though the thought of the battle itself still has an unpleasant effect on both of them, Clarke thinks that the wound so raw and open before that neither of them thought it would close, is well on its way to scarring.

 

She sits on the bed and watches as Lexa clears her face of war paint, instantly uncovering the young woman’s fresh features underneath. Clarke can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed as she leans back on her elbows and blatantly admires as the commander removes her armor and battle clothes and changes into a soft baggy shirt with no pants. Clarke’s eyes immediately fixate on the long legs put on display for her, and she doesn’t notice the clothing thrown her way that hits her face. This makes Lexa laugh, knowing full well why Clarke had such a slow reaction.

 

“If you’re spending the night Clarke, you might want to change into those. Wouldn’t want my furs getting dirty.”

 

With a smile she can’t seem to suppress, Clarke cheekily says, “How about we wear nothing and dirty up the furs anyway?”

 

At that, Lexa saunters over and stands in front of her. She leans down to kiss Clarke and slowly pushes the blonde on her back so that she is hovering over her. Clarke immediately scoots up so that they are comfortably resting on the bed properly while Lexa’s body presses onto her, making her body throb in all the right places. Their lips stay locked in a passionate kiss and Clarke smugly thinks that it wasn’t that hard to convince Lexa after all when the other woman leans back with a suppressed grin as she brings up her hand clutching the black shirt she threw at Clarke earlier.

 

“You should change,” Lexa says as she rolls to the side and chuckles at Clarke’s pouting.

 

“Oh that was just cruel, Lexa.” But gets up anyway with a huff and proceeds on changing. Sure she’s been craving intimacy with Lexa. But being carefree and playful with her like this, she decided, is one of her favorite things in the world. And she’ll take what she can get.

Sliding under the furs, she lowers her head on Lexa’s shoulder and a slight tilt has her lips grazing the other woman’s neck. She hears Lexa gasp which urges her to place open-mouthed kisses to elicit the beautiful sound again.

 

Feeling confident that this might actually go somewhere this time, Clarke whispers seductively, “Lexa, should we…”

 

“Nope.”

 

Clarke lets out of a whining noise as she pulls back a little but proceeds to let her hand travel downward, “But what about if I just…”

 

“Nope,” Lexa repeats with a laugh as she gently places Clarke’s hand over her stomach again.

 

“Fine,” Clarke says in a huff and places her head back on Lexa’s shoulder dejectedly.

 

She thinks the commander has fallen asleep as she listens to her breathing slow down and feels the movement of Lexa’s hand on her back completely stop, when she hears Lexa whisper, “I’m glad you’re here, Clarke.”

 

“So am I,” she replies with a goofy smile on her face.

 

She knows that there’s no way sex is on the table tonight. But she's laying in bed with a girl with strong arms and the softest skin she's ever had the privilege to touch, even marred with battle scars as it is. And still, there's a party in Clarke's stomach, and it's getting pretty fucking wild.


	3. Three

If someone had told Lexa several months ago that she’d someday wake up next to an alien that fell from the sky - who hogs the whole entire bed so Lexa only has to turn her body a little to the right to fall on the ground, who tucks the only blanket under her little body so that there’s barely any shield against the cutting cold wind filtering in from the flaps of the tent, and who has her leg haphazardly thrown over Lexa’s waist that it’s almost painful to breathe in and out –

 

Lexa would have asked how she killed this alien.

 

She would have asked which one of her foolish warriors let an audacious intruder into the commander’s tent and allowed her to slide into the same bed she occupied. She would have briefly contemplated who she would slay first and if any of them would last long enough after a thousand cuts to suffer against her sword.

 

She never would have asked who this sky intruder was, and who she was to her. For Lexa would have immediately dismissed the idea of someone, _anyone_ getting close that she’d be willing to share a bed. Let alone actually fall asleep next to them. The commander needs to be careful in where she places her trust after all. And trust is immense when sleeping next to someone. The commander wouldn’t just easily give this sacred gift to anyone, would she?

 

As it is, Lexa lays on her back with her numbing arm tucked under Clarke.  Almost half of her body is hanging off the small cot. Her toes are freezing, and she curses herself for not thinking of grabbing the extra blanket she packed that is currently thrown over a chair almost, but not quite within her arm’s reach. Her breathing is a little ragged with Clarke’s leg constricting her respiration and the weight of the blonde’s head is surely not helping her still-healing shoulder from yesterday’s battle.

 

And yet, Lexa doesn’t move an inch.

 

She doesn’t consider disrupting the other girl’s peaceful slumber, let alone killing her per Lexa’s thoughts when she first woke up. The commander wants to laugh about her ridiculous morbid thoughts, but smiles at the tattered ceiling of the tent instead. The upward tilt of her lip, such an unfamiliar gesture after ascending as the commander and even more after her former lover had been murdered, is becoming more and more apparent the more time she spent with Clarke.

 

And for once, she doesn’t fight it.  She’s tired of fighting it. And the way Clarke is contentedly pressed against her body at that moment, could very well mean that maybe Clarke is tired of fighting it too. And perhaps for the sake of their sanities, and in turn the sake of their people, they should just throw in the towel and just stop _fucking_ fighting it.

 

After all, a lot of things have changed in the past several months. Actions she would have considered unequivocally obscene toward the commander of the twelve clans didn’t apply to everyone, or namely, just the person currently gracelessly draped over her body.

 

Her new peace initiative isn’t widely supported by all the clans but she is sure they will come around, just as they did when the coalition was first formed. The Heda in Lexa is motivated by the prospect of harmony amongst her people. Her vision of everyone on her lands living in peace with no pending war, sickness, or other threats is what she has been working toward ever since she ascended. And to have overcome another hurdle just yesterday makes the commander of the twelve, hopefully thirteen clans soon, very happy.

 

But the girl in Lexa is simply excited about what this newfound peace could mean between her and Clarke. Is the once hollowed word _someday_ they exchanged weeks ago now a very real possibility? What would it be like to have a more temperate version of Clarke beside her in Polis? Would they visit the markets together and would they share evening meals, and fall asleep in each other’s arms just like this? She sure hopes so.

 

Lexa’s brain unwillingly makes up a fantasy in which she and Clarke would stroll around Polis, hand in hand without being watched with disdain. Could she change another century-long tradition so she and the commanders after her can freely be with someone without being berated? Without being judged? Could she and Clarke convince their people that leaders can love and be loved in return without jeopardizing their duty?

 

For Lexa _loves_ Clarke. She’s done denying it. There was a big part of her that regretted not saying it when Clarke left Polis. The very thought of not being able to say how she really felt before it was too late took a toll on Lexa during the time they spent apart. And she’s glad to possibly have another chance to do so. Although she doubts she’ll be saying it anytime soon. Lexa doesn’t know how Clarke feels but if she isn’t there yet, Lexa thinks she can be patient. She’s waited this long after all.

 

A warm hand suddenly touches her cheek followed by the most beautiful voice Lexa thinks she’s ever heard. “You’re so comfy,” Clarke says in a raspy voice, “I like sleeping like this.” Her eyes are still closed and there’s a hint of a smirk already forming on her face.

 

Lexa can’t help but smile at that, regardless of how uncomfortable her current position is, “I can tell you like it.”

 

She looks down and watches Clarke open her eyes, a small smile still on her lips. And gods, if she could wake up every morning looking into those eyes, she’d die a very, very happy woman. Clarke nuzzles her neck even further and mumbles, “How did you sleep?”

 

Lexa slept like shit.

 

“I slept well. What about you?”

 

Clarke pulls back to look at the other woman’s features. Lexa’s still beautiful of course, but if the dark circles under her eyes are anything to go by, she definitely did not sleep well. “You don’t look like you slept well,” Clarke says as she caresses Lexa’s cheek again. She’s rewarded with a kiss on her open palm and as small as the gesture is, her skin burns pleasantly from the simple contact.

 

“Nothing gets past you, Clarke,” Lexa replies with a grin as she shifts to remove her sensationless arm under the blonde. She sits up and stretches her arm, repeatedly opening and closing her first in hopes to gain back the feeling. Clarke mimics her position and immediately furrows her eyebrows at the sight.

 

“Was I…. Why didn’t you push me off of you, Lexa? Did you even fall asleep at all?”

 

“Of course I did,” Lexa says as she continues to massage her own arm.

 

Clarke moves closer and gently removes Lexa’s hand and resumes the tender rubbing of her arm instead. Lexa can do nothing but stare in amazement as they sit in silence. Every once in a while, Clarke looks up timidly and smiles, causing Lexa to return the gesture. There’s something about the way Clarke’s hands or just Clarke in general are making her feel. She loves caring Clarke. She loves gentle Clarke. She loves concerned Clarke. _She loves Clarke. And gods, she’s about ready to explode in confession._

Lexa’s heart is pounding like she’s gone through a round of training with a dozen of her warriors. Her hands, which have been unknowingly resting on the blonde’s thighs are clammy and shaky all of a sudden. And Clarke must’ve sensed the shift in her demeanor for she immediately stops her ministrations and grabs one of Lexa’s hand with her own. She meets Lexa’s eyes and tils her head to the side in question.

 

“Clarke.”

 

“Lexa?”

 

The commander takes a deep breath. But the oxygen she inhales isn’t nearly enough – she’s practically gasping. She shakes her head at herself. She’s fought and won numerous battles in her lifetime that she has lost count already. She’s brought grown men three times her size to their knees with one single swoop of her weapon. She’s convinced thousands of her people to follow her and die for her. And here she is, in front of a sky girl she has only known for less than a year, unable to profess anything. Unable to say anything. Unable to really do much but blink stupidly at the clear blue eyes increasingly looking concerned.

 

“Lexa, are you okay?”

 

“There’s something I need to tell you. Clarke, I…”

 

“Yes?”

 

She takes another deep breath, hoping to get some more oxygen into her fatuous brain, “Clarke, I…”

 

“ _Heda!”_

Both women turn to the sound of one of Lexa’s warriors outside of her tent. His heavy footsteps can be faintly heard and Clarke figures that they have at least ten seconds before he makes it to the entrance. She turns back to Lexa and squeezes her hand, wordlessly imploring for her to continue. Whatever it was Lexa was going to say has got to be more important than whatever stupid news the warrior is going to bring.

 

Instead of complying, Lexa turns away from Clarke’s gaze and swiftly gets up to get dressed. The sudden loss of contact and change in the mood confused the blonde. And it didn’t help that her head is pounding from the amount of moonshine she consumed the night before. She continues to sit on the bed and watches in puzzlement as Lexa moves to tell her guards that she will be out in a few minutes.

 

Did she do something wrong? Clarke tries to recall the events from last night and although the alcohol surely made things a little fuzzy, she is almost certain she didn’t do anything that might have caused such an adverse effect. She looks down at her hands lost in her own thoughts and mumbles to herself, “What the hell?”

 

And although it is meant for only herself to hear, Lexa, who is on the other side of the partition, and apparently has superhero hearing abilities immediately re-enters with an apprehensive look.

 

“Clarke, there’s nothing wrong. I assure you,” she walks up to the makeshift bed and gently takes a hold of Clarke’s chin to look at her properly, “It wasn’t important. I will talk to my generals and then I will find you, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Clarke replies quietly. She doesn’t believe for one second it wasn’t important.

 

Lexa senses her worry and now regrets saying anything at all. She kisses Clarke soundly, hoping to comfort her in any way.

 

“We go home in the afternoon. I will see you soon?” Lexa pauses at the opening of the tent. She looks like she doesn’t want to leave at all.

 

Clarke only nods and finally manages to give her a smile. _Home_. That sounds good to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke hates it when she’s right.

 

Well, not really. She loves it when she’s right. But not about this. She finds out a little later the reason why Lexa had to leave so early in the morning from her tent was because her hunters had successfully captured and killed a pauna and that the commander had to preside some kind of Trigadekru ritual bullshit.

 

It didn’t help her mood that Octavia was the first person she ran into after leaving the commander’s tent and she was met with an eye roll so severe that she thought the brunette’s eyeballs would stay stuck like that. It would have been a funny sight and Clarke wanted to say so, but the way Octavia glared confirmed the comment would not have been appreciated.

 

Clarke was actually surprised that Octavia bothered to answer her at all when she asked if she knew what was going on and she pretended she didn’t hear the brunette mutter under her breath when she walked away something about “being shameless leaving a murderer’s tent”. They were going to have to talk about that soon.

 

But right now, Clarke couldn’t be bothered. She is annoyed that Lexa had to leave before saying whatever the hell it was she was going to say. And she is even more annoyed at herself for feeling that way.

 

The camp is buzzing with activities of grounders and sky people dismantling their camp. The small tent she and Raven were supposed to share is still intact however, and Clarke beelines her way toward it. As can be expected after a night of heavy drinking, Raven is still soundly asleep in their tent, drool finding its way to the pillow. She grunts in disgust as she realizes it’s her pillow that Raven is currently abusing. She tries to be quiet when cleaning up their mess, preparing to leave like everyone else but really, her head is stull humming with thoughts of a certain green-eyed commander along with crazy ideas as to what this morning was about.

 

“Clarke, if you don’t stop stomping around and making so much noise, I fucking swear…”

 

“You fucking swear what?”

 

Raven opens her eyes slowly with an irritated look she seems to wear a lot. “I fucking swear I will kiss you so hard.”

 

Clarke scrunches her nose in feigned disgust.

 

“I will kiss you so hard,” Raven repeats, “And I haven’t brushed my teeth in like, days. So you won’t like it. Well…maybe you will. Not sure what you’re into.”

 

That earns Raven a laugh, “That’s…really disgusting.”

 

Her friend shrugs and doesn’t say anything else and Clarke takes it as her cue to continue cleaning up, albeit more quietly this time. A long silence passes them and Clarke thinks Raven has fallen back asleep.

 

“So what’s bothering you Princess?”

 

“You guys really need to stop calling me that.”

 

“So what’s bothering you sexy?”

 

Clarke chuckles and she’s glad to have a friend that can lighten the mood in any kind of situation. She thinks of not saying anything. After all, not everyone is crazy about Lexa after that whole sending 300 warriors to kill them in the beginning, and the TonDC bombing, and the whole betraying their people and leaving them for dead at the mountain debacle. Oh, and not to mention Finn, Raven’s first love and childhood best friend, getting, you know, sentenced to death by the commander. But words come spilling out of her mouth and before she knows it, Clarke tells her and Lexa’s story from the very beginning.

 

How she hated her and only knew that they needed the commander to defeat the mountain. But that they eventually shared an understanding in their burdens, and that understanding eventually led to a kiss so intense, even as short as it was, it left her trembling even hours later when it penetrated her mind repeatedly.

 

That she hated Lexa again for doing what she did at the mountain. And even more when she was captured for her own protection. But then something changed. Every encounter thereafter was dizzying in a good way. She became addicted to the feeling. Addicted to being around Lexa. She recounts the fact that as much as Clarke tried to keep hating the other woman, it seems that her heart had other plans.

 

And now she just doesn’t know what to think. The night before, falling asleep in each other’s arms, felt perfect. But this morning, Lexa was acting weird and she didn’t know what to make of it. It feels odd to the blonde that she’s worrying about something so trivial when just days before, they were preparing for a war.

 

But in a way, it feels right. She’s still technically a teenager after all.

 

“Wow,” Raven hisses, “That…that was a lot.”

 

Clarke only hums in response, now sitting on the unslept cot she was supposed to use the night before.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Raven continues, “She said she missed you and that you guys had a pleasant night last night.”

 

“Mmmhmm.”

 

“And she still wants you to come to Polis with her when she leaves.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And your problem is, you still think she doesn’t want you because she was being weird this morning and was nervous about something and whatnot?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Raven sits up and stares at her friend in disbelief before succumbing to a fit of laughter, complete with snorting and tears leaking from her eyes. She continues for a long time while Clarke repeatedly asks what’s so funny until the blonde finally throws a pillow that hits Raven square in the face.

 

When the laughter dies down, Raven is still smiling like she knows a secret Clarke doesn’t, “You know, for someone so smart, you are pretty damn stupid Clarke.”

* * *

 

 

Lexa was true to her word. Before Clarke could even ask Raven again just what in the hell she’s talking about, one of Lexa’s warriors interrupts and lets her know that the commander is looking for her.

 

Standing up and wiping her suddenly clammy hands on her pants, Clarke pauses with a scrunched face and turns, “Have you really not brushed your teeth in days?”

 

“Who got time for that?” Raven replies with a detached shrug.

 

Clarke leaves the tent but not without receiving a knowing look from her very, very strange friend.

 

Although her thoughts are all over the place, Clarke can’t help feeling excited about the very prospect of seeing Lexa again. It should feel strange since they just saw each other barely a couple of hours ago, but she allows herself to embrace the feeling.

 

Lost in her own thoughts, she doesn’t even notice that they have strayed far from camp and was definitely not on their way to the commander’s tent. Out of habit, her hand reaches for the dagger normally strapped to her hip, replacing the gun holster that normally took residence there. Panic overtakes her as she realizes she left it at Lexa’s tent and remembers the last time she was away from camp with no one else around.

_Shit, what if this is another Quint. I’m screwed._

She begins to open her mouth to ask or to mainly distract the warrior she’s been blindly following, but before she could do so, she spots Lexa, standing in a clearing whispering encouragingly to her horse. And really, she hopes but also kind of doesn’t, that her body would stop reacting so strongly whenever she saw the commander.

 

Lexa turns to the sounds of their footsteps and smiles that slight smile she does, and Clarke can’t help but grin stupidly. Teeth and all. Yes, she’s going to have to tell her body to calm the fuck down.

 

When they reach the commander, Lexa says something in Trigadesleng that Clarke supposes is translation to please leave or something like that. She really needs to learn more of their language.

 

Lexa, free of war paint, and free of onlookers then turns to Clarke, and reaches for her hand, “Hello.”

 

“Hello,” Clarke parrots back, with a smile still plastered to her face, “For a minute there, I thought I was getting kidnapped.” Her smile falls off her face and eyes widen as she registers what she just said and how the very thing she just so inconsiderately joked about happened to the commander’s former lover. _So, so stupid._ She tries again, “So what’re we doing here?”

 

Lexa thankfully doesn’t react to her senselessness and squeezes her hand, “I thought we could go for a ride. There’s something I want to show you before we leave… if you don’t mind that is.” Her voice becomes softer as she looks at anywhere but Clarke. And Clarke thinks shy Lexa is the most adorable.

 

“I’d love to, Lexa,” and she’s rewarded with a beam.

 

“I only have my horse, so…” Lexa clears her throat as she uselessly gestures to the only horse in the clearing.

 

Clarke laughs and squeezes her hand in return, “Okay, I’ll let you take the reins this time.”

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re almost there,” Lexa murmurs against her ear. Clarke hopes the intense shiver it brings down her spine isn’t so obvious against the other woman’s front. She hums in response, not trusting her words at this moment. Not when one of Lexa’s hands is resting on her thigh, squeezing every now and then. Not when Lexa’s lips would idly graze her neck from time to time. Not when everything Lexa does is causing her breath to hitch and her whole body to warm. This morning’s strangeness already almost forgotten.

 

They are surrounded by trees, some of them already turning orange and yellow. Lexa explains that after the leaves fall, they would be left bare during long cold months when snow starts to fall, and then it gets warmer again, trees and flowers blooming once more – a cycle of the earth she calls it. Clarke doesn’t interrupt or let her know that she learned all of this in the ark, just enjoying the cadence of Lexa’s voice and the pleasant vibration it creates against her back.

 

Clarke is resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder when she sees her point to an enormous tree, the biggest she has ever seen since landing on earth. Its leaves are still intact and full, impressive against the midday’s sun. They stop under it and Lexa gracefully lands on the grass as she holds out a hand for the blonde to take, although Clarke lands less than smoothly, her legs still jelly from the ride.

 

Grasping her hand, Lexa points again and only when Clarke squints, does she see what she’s supposed to be looking at. “That’s a tree house I built when I was ten. It’s surprisingly big inside, and it still holds after all these years,” Lexa says with a smile as she stares at it with pride. Clarke on the other hand is now watching Lexa adoringly instead, content in seeing her unusually happy.

 

“That’s impressive. But how do you get up there? I don’t see any ladder,” Clarke says as she lets go of Lexa’s hand and surveys around the tree. Her eyes roam up and down the big trunk and as she takes a step back, she doesn’t notice a grown root protruding from the ground until both her feet make contact with it causing her to fall clumsily on her rear. The humiliating squeak that comes out of her mouth makes her eyes widen but Lexa is at her side within a moment, concern etched all over her features, “Clarke! Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Just me being clumsy,” Clarke laughs lightly, face red in embarrassment as she stands and brushes off dirt from her pants.

 

Lexa nods and just watches with a barely contained smile. She stands there unmoving for a long moment silently.

 

And then Lexa laughs. Lexa laughs hard. Lexa laughs harder than Clarke has ever heard. She laughs with her whole entire body shaking uncontrollably. There are happy tears escaping her eyes and Clarke feels a surge of pride in provoking such a reaction. So even if she is technically laughing at her, Clarke joins in. They laugh until their stomachs are aching, until their legs give out and they’re sprawled on the grass, side by side, heaving from exhaustion and elation.

 

For so long, all she’s known are sorrow and death and simply just _surviving._ She hasn’t felt so light in such a long time and Clarke thinks this is the best she has ever felt.

 

Lexa is still giggling uncontrollably, her eyes on the sky, when she dazedly says, “I love you. I haven’t laughed like that in so long. I actually… don’t remember the last time I was able to do so.”

 

Clarke sits up so suddenly that Lexa whips her head toward her at the abrupt movement.

 

“What did you just say?” Clarke asks in a whisper.

 

Lexa widens her eyes in realization and swallows audibly, “That I haven’t laughed like that in so long?”

 

Clarke shakes her head, “No. The other thing.”

 

“That I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that?”

 

“Lexa… the other thing.”

 

Lexa sits up slowly, eyes never leaving Clarke’s as she sucks in a breath. _Here it goes,_ she preps herself.

 

“I love you,” Lexa whispers, her eyes widening just a little bit more at the confession, “ _I_ love you”. She pauses momentarily to let it sink in and tilts her head to the side, as if she is in awe of what she is saying. As if the overwhelming thumping in her chest is finally easing as it comes out and is making it that much more real. “I _love_ you. I love _you. I love you,_ Clarke,” she repeats it like a mantra, emphasizing each word like she’s getting used to saying it again. Like she likes the sound of it coming from her mouth. Like saying it out loud has opened the floodgates of her heart and there’s no way in hell she can stop it now.

 

Clarke stares at her for a seemingly long time, but really is only seconds, and Lexa thinks she’s made a mistake saying it. And still, she holds the blonde’s gaze in question, and before she knows it, Clarke surges forward and kisses her with such a force that she ends up on her back once again. It doesn’t take long for Lexa to respond in the same manner, as she wraps her arms around Clarke and brings their bodies impossibly even closer.  

 

Clarke pulls her head back much too quickly to Lexa’s liking and chuckles, “How long have you been holding that in?”

 

She sighs exasperatedly, “Gods, I don’t know, Clarke.”

 

The blonde pecks her again insistently, “How long?”

 

“Since after the mountain? When you came back to Polis…” Lexa replies timidly as she looks over Clarke’s shoulder. She still hasn’t said it back after all.

 

“So that’s why you were being all weird this morning?” Clarke asks and receives a grunt in response.

 

“Were you planning on saying that to me before I left Polis?”

 

Another grunt.

 

“Lexa… Ai hod yu in,” Clarke smiles as Lexa finally returns her astonished gaze back at her, “I love you, too.”

 

And Clarke lied. The fire that lights up her chest, down to her stomach, all over her body, embossed on her bones, and inside her soul that she feels with Lexa’s answering smile and the searing kiss that followed after – that - That is the best she has ever felt.


	4. Four

 

“Say it again,” Clarke requests against Lexa’s ear in that husky voice of hers.

 

Lexa flinches when gentle fingers touch her core, too sensitive from the multiple orgasms from Clarke’s mouth alone.

 

When Lexa, still gasping and woozy from pleasure doesn’t answer, Clarke kisses and sucks her collarbone as she slowly puts a finger in, and then two, careful not to touch Lexa’s sensitive bud. She’s rewarded with a moan as Clarke moves in and out of her. They look at each other in a lusty haze and when Clarke curls her finger, she moves her mouth to hover over the commander’s, “Say it again.”

She moves faster then, curling her fingers at the right time each time, causing Lexa to moan loudly against her mouth, not caring if anyone might hear, and as Lexa’s back arches and she digs her fingers on the back of Clarke’s neck to pull her even closer, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Lexa pants against Clarke’s mouth as she comes for she thinks might be the sixth time. She’s honestly lost count.

 

Clarke smiles against her lips as she slowly retreats her fingers, resting her hand on Lexa’s hip instead, “I love you, Lexa.”

 

Lexa chuckles despite the ever-growing knot in her stomach. She doesn’t think she’ll get tired of hearing those words from Clarke’s mouth. “Jok, Klark,” she whispers as her body relaxes and Clarke sinks against her shoulder.

 

“Again?” Clarke asks playfully as she lifts up her head.

 

“Mm-mmm,” Lexa replies before Clarke can make a move. The sky girl’s reflex is faster than she thought. “It’s your turn again. Come up here.” She pulls Clarke’s hips upwards, causing the blonde’s eyes to widen a little in surprise.

 

She’s a little slow in her movements, but Clarke complies anyway, moving her body gradually so that she is first straddling Lexa by the waist, and then her stomach, chest, until finally reaching her purpose. Her little trek already turned her on so much and even more when her view from the top is Lexa’s hooded gaze and the tongue peeking out of her mouth to wet her lips in anticipation. Clarke would’ve been self-conscious at how wet she is already but the way Lexa eyes her eagerly makes her think otherwise and when Lexa finally dips her tongue in her entrance and moans as she does, Clarke can’t help but mimic the sound right back.

 

“Holy shit, that feels good,” she gasps as her palm slams onto the wooden wall of the tree house.

 

The tree house, it turns out, does not have a ladder as Clarke suspected, but instead a few ridges around the tree to help you climb. What Lexa didn’t think she needed to explain however, was that it’s very a challenging ascent that required a very skilled climber. But boy, did Clarke learn quickly when she fell off the giant tree multiple times only to have Lexa catch her every single time. She was a little embarrassed after her third fall but Lexa waved her hand dismissively, saying encouraging words and even arrogantly assuring Clarke that the Heda is very strong and will catch her a hundred times more if she needed to. Lexa laughed at Clarke’s obvious eye roll but in reality, those stupid butterflies in her stomach erupted wildly at the commander’s corny pick up line.

 

Lexa’s tongue is doing amazing things and Clarke thinks this is the hottest thing she’s ever done. She’s had multiple sex partners of course but under in no circumstances did they ever compare to how Lexa is making her feel. It’s not just the fact that she has a natural talent in bed, but no one has ever made Clarke feel this way before. No one has ever made her feel safe, secure, cared for, and _loved_. Clarke feels loved and she thinks she finally gets it now when people would refer to having sex as making love. She used to scoff at the ridiculous statement, but Lexa has showed her repeatedly of what that’s like.

 

She feels Lexa shift beneath her and looks down as the other woman’s flat tongue grazes her clit in a confident manner that makes Clarke literally whimper in pleasure. Feeling a hand on her back, she finally gets the cue and leans a little more forward, causing her to put both of her palms on the wooden surface. In the same beat, Lexa snakes her other hand under and slowly inserts a finger, carefully hooking it to her wall.

 

“Fuck, Lexa! Yes!”

 

Encouraged by the sound of desire coming from above her, Lexa moves with a newfound purpose as she licks and thrusts until Clarke is canting her hips in rhythm, desperately searching for release.

 

Lexa moans at the sight and as much as she is enjoying the view and Clarke’s taste, she wants to give her a release that will make her see stars behind her eyelids when Lexa’s done with her. So she adds another finger and is rewarded with an even louder moan, she’s sure they’ve attracted every animal surrounding the woods right now.

 

“I’m so close, Lexa. Please, don’t stop. I’m….fu” Clarke gasps but doesn’t even finish her sentence as her body goes rigid for a few seconds before shaking completely. Lexa helps her stay upright as her legs can’t seem to get the message.

 

Once  her legs stops trembling, Lexa slowly extracts her fingers and places loving gentle kisses inside the blonde’s thighs, eliciting a few more whimpers from her sensitivity.

 

Clarke eventually finds it in her to move, albeit very slowly, to lay back down next to her very smug lover whose head is currently propped on her elbow with her other hand already lazily tracing Clarke’s stomach.

 

“Fuck, Lexa,” Clarke finally manages to mutter as she turns her head and takes in Lexa’s satisfied smile.

 

“Again?”

 

They laugh at the same time, finally exhausted and very much sated to go on anymore.

 

“You’re seriously so so sooo fucking good at that,” Clarke says as she turns to her side to face the other woman.

 

Lexa smiles as she moves her hand to Clarke’s neck and kisses her softly, “So are you. If that’s going to happen like that every time we separate and reunite, then might I suggest separating and reuniting more often?”

 

“You don’t mean that do you?” Clarke asks sheepishly even though she already knows the answer.

 

“Not even a little bit,” Lexa whispers against her lips and captures her bottom lip before fully kissing her. Clarke thinks she’s never been more in love.

 

They separate after a little while and pull each other even closer so that every part of their body is practically touching. The sun is rising higher now, from the looks of it from the tiny window of the wooden house. And even though they are aware that their temporary time in serenity is about the end, they readily put their clothes back on, although not without a lot of playful distractions. With Clarke stealing Lexa’s top and throwing it across the tiny room and kissing her hard without skipping a beat. And Lexa snaking her arms around Clarke and placing open-mouthed kisses on her bare shoulder while Clarke is trying and failing to button her pants. Lexa even finds a spot on Clarke’s hip that makes the blonde squirm away from her in a fit of giggles. She’s sure to file that information away for future teasing retaliation.

 

_Future_. Lexa can’t believe how lucky she is to be even thinking about a possibility of a future with Clarke when the first time they became intimate, they both thought it was also the last time.

 

Unlike last time though, there isn’t a war coming that will tear them apart. Unlike last time, the air isn’t obscured by sadness and goodbyes. Unlike last time, Clarke and Lexa will see each other again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. And unlike last time, they freely say those three little words that after a long time of fortifying and barricading, finally relented and escaped the confines of their hearts.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a sense of tranquility leaving Lexa’s childhood tree house. Even though they just went through another war the day before and will possibly face more challenges ahead of them, it feels good to know that Lexa and Clarke will at least be by each other’s sides. Having someone to lean on for both leaders put them in good spirits. Sure, Clarke has her family and friends to talk to. And Lexa has her trusted advisors to confer decisions with. But Clarke has never had anyone understand her like Lexa does. And Lexa has never had anyone to put her at ease like Clarke does. Not in a long time at least, and not with so many deaths in her hands.

 

Lexa’s free arm is around Clarke’s waist, holding her protectively as they ride back to camp. She knows she has very little time until they reach the clearing when she has to let go. So she takes advantage of their closeness and even lets herself playfully graze Clarke’s breasts from time to time.

 

“If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll make this horse stop and make you finish what you started,” Clarke half pants and chuckles at Lexa’s antics.

 

Lexa wears a knowing smirk, fully aware that Clarke will be true to her word and will in fact attempt to take the reins of her unruly horse which may end up with both of them getting injured.

 

So she drops her arm around Clarke’s waist again, holding her even closer than before, “As you wish, Clarke.” She kisses her cheek and Clarke follows her lips, kissing her soundly. They smile at the newfound easiness between them.

 

“So, who is going with us to Polis?” Lexa asks. She’s a little reluctant to break the spell of pretending a world outside the two of them doesn’t exist. But they are both still leaders after all. And leaders need to talk about politics at some point.

 

“My mom and Kane and several others that form the council. I’m guessing Octavia will want to stay behind with Lincoln. And I was hoping Raven could come too since she’s never been and I think she would really like the market stalls that have tech junk from before,” Clarke replies as she leans her head back on Lexa’s shoulder. “Will there be another ceremony like last time?”

 

“Yes, but Kane won’t have to take the brand again since he already has one. It’s just for formality really, to re-instate the Skaikru as the thirteenth clan again in front of the other clan leaders and ambassadors.”

 

“Will I have to bow before you again?” Clarke asks as her voice drops to a whisper. She remembers feeling angry and anxious that night, muttering to herself and pacing back and forth in her chambers prior to the event. She had been so angry about the fact that in order to survive, she had to bow to her very enemy. But when she saw Lexa standing on the dais with a flowy black dress on and a comforting gaze staring back at her, Clarke was left speechless. And she was glad she didn’t have to utter a word for Lexa looked so beautiful. And she remembers hating herself for thinking that. But now, if she had to do it again, she’d gladly get on her knees in front of everyone and swear her allegiance. For she wouldn’t want to show her devotion to any other commander as long as she lives. It’s crazy how things change in several weeks.  

 

Lexa notices the shift in her and she places another calming kiss on Clarke’s cheek, “No need, Wanheda. Everyone knows where you stand at this point. And if they don’t, well. They just have to answer to me.”

 

Clarke hums in response, “That’s too bad. I kind of liked getting on my knees and bowing before the grounder queen.”

 

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that,” Lexa answers with a smile, “In private that is.”

 

“In one condition,” Clarke replies. “With your clothes off.”

 

“And with _your_ clothes off.”

 

Clarke laughs, “Okay, I like this plan better.”

 

“There will be a celebration after the ceremony takes place in a week’s time. Perhaps, we can retire early and leave Titus to delegate the proceedings.”

 

“I would do it just to piss Titus off, that’s for sure,” Clarke answers with a scoff. The thought of seeing the flamekeeper riled up gives her a sick sense of pleasure. She doesn’t think he’ll grow on her anytime soon.

 

Lexa chuckles at that, “Behave, Clarke.”

 

They finally reach the clearing and Lexa slows the horse to a stop. As they’re still a little ways from the camp, Lexa grabs a hold of Clarke’s hand while holding the reins with her other. There’s a sense of relief in being able to freely show their affection to each other when there are no eyes on them. So they are understandably reluctant to let go once they can see the camp they had left that morning and they are only able to do so with the promise of being in Polis together in a few hours. Of being home.

 

Clarke and Lexa are going home.

 

* * *

 

 

Being home, it turns out, proves to be more irritating than what both leaders initially anticipated. With the upcoming ceremony taking place in a few days’ time, Lexa is swamped with meetings and negotiations with all the clans. With so many of their people still against the Skaikru being the thirteenth clan and demanding blood instead, some clans think it the best time to bring up the fact that if Skaikru is going to be pardoned and clearly favored, they should at least get something in return. The commander is then left preceding negotiations or more like babysitting grown adults that act like children in the presence of others. As the newly appointed chancellor of the Skaikru, Kane thankfully stands his ground successfully and proves to be pretty good at diplomacy.

 

Clarke on the other hand is in charge of showing the Skaikru around Polis and would only from time to time sit in on some meetings. These are the only few times Lexa and Clarke really see each other due to their busy schedules, and even though the sneaking glances and innocent brushing of hands are exchanged in front of other people, each encounter leaves them in a better mood when they depart.

 

Even their hope of spending nights with each other will have to wait until after the ceremony as Clarke is expected to sleep amongst her people on a different floor in the tower while Lexa stays up late eating, drinking, and entertaining clan leaders who she suspects need reassurance to ensure they will stay loyal to her.

 

So it’s understandable that when Clarke, needing a break from her friends, finds herself aimlessly walking the now seemingly empty halls of the tower late at night hears Lexa’s voice bidding goodnight to one of the clan leaders, thinks of a surprise that she thought would end up way differently than she had intended. Obscured by the shadows of the flickering light, Clarke grabs a hold of the commander’s arm as the woman walks by the intersecting hall, which she immediately finds to be a very bad mistake. For all of a sudden, the arm she took a hold of is twisting her own while Lexa’s other arm is on her throat, causing her to make a strangled choking sound.

 

Recognizing the raspberry scent she’s come to know is the blonde’s, Lexa immediately releases her hold and gasps at what could have happened had Clarke not used her favorite soap.

 

“Clarke! Why would you do that? I could have killed you!” Lexa hisses at her hunched over form.

 

Still finding it hard to breathe, Clarke waits a moment to get the oxygen back in her lungs through her burning throat before she responds with her hands still resting on her knees, “I thought I’d surprise you because I haven’t seen you all day. I didn’t know that the surprise would be turned around on me – a surprise attack that is. Jesus Lexa, you’re strong.” And Clarke decides then and there, she needs to stop trying to be cute in dark places.

 

“I am sorry, Clarke. You really did take me by surprise, alright. What can I do?” Lexa whispers as she steps forward and cups both of Clarke’s cheeks. She looks mortified that she caused her pain even though it was unintentional.

 

Clarke is quick to reassure her though, it’s her fault anyway as she should’ve known the Heda would react like that to such a thing. She straightens her spine and grasps Lexa’s hands still resting on her face, “Lexa, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m sorry I startled you.” She gives her an earnest smile, hoping that the other woman would take her word for it.

 

Lexa sighs as she moves her fingers delicately to Clarke’s neck, already seeing a small bruise forming there. Clarke is prepared for it as she braces herself not to flinch under the pressing touch.

 

“See? Fine.” Clarke smiles again as she kisses Lexa soundly who in turn just grunts in response, not believing her for a second.

 

“What’re you doing up this late? I thought you’d be asleep by now. Raven must be looking for you.”

 

“I wanted to get away for a second. My feet just started heading to the commander’s floor at their own accord. I swear I didn’t tell them to.”

 

Lexa smirks, “Are you sure about that, Clarke?”

 

“No, not really.” She pecks her lips again.

 

“Well, I suspect we have several hours until the sun is up. If you want to stay with me and rest before your friends wake up?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Clarke replies with the biggest smile she’s worn in days.

 

Lexa peeks around the corner and signals for her that it’s safe to leave their hiding place. They walk hand in hand as they make the short trek to the commander’s chambers where both immediately take off their clothes except for their undergarments and easily slip in between the comfortable furs.

 

Clarke instinctively pulls Lexa closer so that the brunette’s head is resting on her shoulder as she tilts Lexa’s head for their lips to meet. “Reshop, Lexa.”

 

“Reshop, Clarke,” she responds with a drowsy smile.

 

Not even a moment after, “Clarke?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Who is Jesus?” Lexa asks groggily causing Clarke to chuckle.

 

When she suspects the blonde won’t be answering, she frowns even in her unfocused state, “Should I be jealous?”

 


	5. Five

 

 

It’s the day of the ceremony and there’s much to be done. The assembly hall needs to be prepared to make sure everything is in the right place and that it will appropriately hold the number of people they are anticipating. Food, wine, and entertainment for the celebration must be overseen. The few Skaikru that are in the capital need to be briefed by Clarke so they know what to expect and how to properly conduct themselves. The commander and the clan leaders are supposed to meet to discuss further progress in their respective homes and finalize any new trades and customs now that the Skaikru will be inducted as the thirteenth clan once again. Clarke and Lexa really should be getting ready soon as their handmaidens are in their chambers patiently waiting to scrub, brush, and lather every part of their body for tonight.

 

And yet here they are, currently cramped in something Clarke could only describe as a broom closet. Lexa has her pressed up against the only wall in the tiny space that doesn’t contain any cleaning equipment. The commander’s hands are gripping her hips tightly as she places open mouthed kisses on her neck and clavicle that will surely leave some kind of mark that, from what Clarke can recall from personal experience, will start showing on her light skin in a few moments. It won’t help that her dress for tonight is similar to the dress she wore during the first ceremony, with as much skin on display for everyone to see. She’s momentarily mortified of what her mother might think about the collage of love bites currently creeping up her neck.

 

And with that horrifying unwelcomed thought, Clarke pushes Lexa half-heartedly with an open palm against the other woman’s chest and she can’t help but chuckle at the way Lexa purses her lips in response. The commander of the twelve, very soon thirteen clans, honest to god, pouts.

 

“We really should be getting ready. Titus is probably assembling some kind of search party for you as we speak,” she says even as her arms find their way around Lexa’s neck once again.

 

Lexa sighs and hangs her head exaggeratedly in feigned defeat, “Fine. I suppose you’re right. We wouldn’t want him barging in here and finding you like this. Can you imagine what they will say when they find out Wanheda was found in a storage room with no pants on?”

 

Clarke stares at her, “Um Lexa.”

 

“Mm?” she replies as she takes a step back and tilts her head to the side and traces Clarke’s neck with her fingers as if admiring the artwork she left on her skin. She looks very pleased with herself.

 

Clarke looks at her up and down and leans forward to whisper conspiringly in her ear, “You don’t have pants on either.”

 

At that, Lexa looks down and playfully raises her eyebrows as if she is surprised to find that, she in fact, did not have pants on either, “Huh. However did that happen?”

 

Clarke can only chuckle at Lexa’s playful antics, delighted at seeing a new side of the commander that she suspects is a very rare treat that none of her closest advisors are even graced with. She melts a little in realization that Lexa is slowly becoming more comfortable being around her, and is putting great trust in Clarke that she’s allowing herself to do such a thing. And maybe one day, they’d be able to recount and share even their most painful memories. Clarke sure hopes so. For as unpredictable the ground has been for them, she’s still optimistic that they have all the time in the world to fully absorb everything there is to know about each other. Of all they’ve been through, apart and together, Clarke is finally coming around to the fact that maybe they do deserve at least that. 

 

She also honestly doesn’t exactly know how they ended up half clothed in the broom closet they’re currently standing in. Everything just happened so fast that she barely even had the time to blink before she was being pushed into the most unromantic place in the tower. Even so, she doesn’t care – she’s with Lexa. Who is arguably _the_ most romantic person there.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_They both woke up before the sun fully rose that morning so that Clarke could go back to the Skaikru quarters before too many people were up. Both were reluctant to let go of each other, with Lexa’s strong arms clutching her tightly while repeatedly promising to let go in five minutes, which really lasted about half an hour. Clarke was no match against the commander’s alluring persuasion. Lexa convinced thousands of people to join her coalition at such a young age after all, so of course the blonde didn’t stand a chance. Not when Lexa’s hands were rubbing her back, threatening to put her back to sleep. Not when their chests were pressed together and legs interlocked intimately that it really should’ve been an uncomfortable position, but for some reason felt wonderful instead. So Clarke had no choice but to relent as she sighed against Lexa’s neck over and over again, secretly pleased that the brunette showed such open need being close to her even for a few more minutes. And she swore she felt Lexa smirk in triumph every time even without opening her eyes._

_They were only interrupted when one of Lexa’s attendants knocked on the door to bring her breakfast. Clarke got up so fast to run to the adjacent bathroom that the furs ended up on the floor, leaving Lexa perplexed and exposed in her undergarments. Clarke only came out when she heard the door closed once again, finding Lexa on the bed with an eyebrow raised._

_“Don’t look at me like that.”_

_“Like what?” Lexa asked as she rolled over to prop her head on her elbow, clearly amused._

_“Like you’re about to say something smart,” Clarke replied as she gathered her clothing and proceeded to get dressed. “I know that look by now. You know we really shouldn’t be giving anyone else a reason to talk about us. They already think you favor Skaikru because of me.”_

_The both knew that she was right. Keeping what they are to each other a secret won’t be easy but the fewer people know right now, the better. The coalition is still delicate these days after all. There’s undoubtedly so many others that still want to kill both of them right now. They don’t voice these. They don’t have to._

_Lexa got up and slowly made her way to Clarke who had stopped fiddling with the buttons of her shirt as she took the time to admire the other woman’s seductively hard stomach instead. Lexa quietly continued buttoning for her and looked up as she finished, “Well do you know what_ this _look means?” She asked as she pulled Clarke’s waist towards her, emerald eyes wearing that sultry look she does without even trying._

_“No…” Clarke stared back with her mouth agape, endlessly amazed by Lexa. The commander really does have game._

_“It means that… I hope you have a good day. And that I love you,” Lexa smiled shyly. It’ll take time to get used to freely saying that, “And that I can’t wait for after tonight’s celebration.”_

_Clarke rubbed Lexa’s arms in response, clearly baited by the commander’s charm, “Oh yeah, why is that?”_

_“Because I picked out the dress you’re wearing for tonight and you’d look very good in it,” she leaned in Clarke’s ear provocatively, “And even more when I take it off of you and it ends up on my floor.”_

_Clarke gasped as Lexa’s words immediately sent a pleasant feeling in her stomach and even further down, “Damn it, you’re so sexy,” she breathed out and kissed Lexa hard at the same time before the brunette could even reply._

_She pushed and half carried a very willing Lexa toward the bed and instantly got rid of the few barriers of clothing between them in record time, that she gave herself an imaginary pat on the back when they reached the fur laden mattress. She didn’t waste any time as she kissed and nipped every part of the commander’s body that made both women whimper in eagerness. It seems that a week of not being able to freely show their affection to each other left them both ready to erupt with the slightest contact._

_Clarke expertly put Lexa’s legs on her shoulders as she bit her bottom lip in anticipation of what she will find when she moved further down and reached her destination._

_Both out of breath even as they barely even started, they pretended not to hear the very loud knock on the door until it was followed by the most irritating voice they both didn’t want to hear at that moment, “Heda, your generals await your arrival at the gate. And the Skaikru are looking for Wanheda,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “If you happen to see her… please relay my message.”_

_That finally stopped Clarke’s hurried caressing as she groaned against Lexa’s stomach, “I fucking swear…” she mumbled some more incoherent words that most definitely involved a lot of expletives. She finally looked up to see Lexa smiling down at her, “I think Titus needs to get laid. Don’t you think so? Should we find him a girlfriend?”_

_The commander could only chuckle, not the least bit interested in her flamekeeper’s love life, “Come here,” she said as she let her legs fall and pulled Clarke upward._

_“I met a nice lady at the markets. She braids people’s hair. Maybe she can make a hairpiece for Titus too,” Clarke continued._

_Once the blonde was above her properly, she kissed her gently and soundly, “I’ll see you tonight?”_

_“Yes,” Clarke replied with a smile, what’s-his-face already forgotten._

_When Clarke was finally fully dressed she left with kiss-swollen lips and the promise of an uninterrupted night of real festivities after the celebration that neither of them could hardly even wait._

 

* * *

 

 

And they didn’t.

 

Several hours of being apart after Titus’s interruption apparently left the commander with a whole lot of pent up energy that when they saw each other in a near empty hallway by chance, Lexa immediately pulled Clarke into the room when she saw that no one was looking. Clarke barely had a chance to protest, not that she was going to. She missed the other woman just as much, kissing her back fervidly, and clinging to the brunette’s neck just as tightly. Fleeting thoughts of tasks she’s really supposed to be doing at that moment flew away just as Lexa’s deft fingers quickly worked their way into her pants. Clarke sighed and held Lexa’s gaze, letting herself fall apart against the person that she’s now learning might also be the only one that can put her back together.

 

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Lexa asks as she kisses her forehead. They’re both fully dressed now, patiently waiting until the voices in the hall are gone when they can finally leave the room.

 

Clarke’s stomach grumbles at the exact time, answering for both of them.  She laughs silently, “I’m thinking I’m hungry.”

 

Lexa smiles but immediately frowns apologetically, “I’m sorry I kept you away from having lunch. I couldn’t help it, I…” She lets her words drift off as her eyes roam over Clarke’s face.

 

How can she voice that she wants her so much all the time that the want is turning to borderline _need_? How can she possibly say that even though they just started whatever this is they just started that she already knows that she wants her to stay forever? How can she say that she might not have a lot to give, being that the commander already gives her all to her people, but that whatever is left, she’ll happily give Clarke if Clarke would have it? How can she express that the mere statement of _I love you_ ’s just isn’t even nearly enough to describe how she feels?

 

Clarke watches Lexa’s myriad of emotions take place in her features and nods the smallest of nods. Lexa doesn’t have to voice them it turns out. Clarke knows. It seems like from the moment they first met, Clarke has been able to read Lexa like an open book. It should be unsettling for such a person to know the commander so well, but for some reason, it makes Lexa feel liberated. Less alone. Or perhaps, not alone at all.  

 

Clarke’s eyes soften in acknowledgement of the silent confession as she caresses Lexa’s cheek. She leans forward to rest her forehead against the other woman’s and sighs against her lips, “I know…” And she sincerely does. Whatever it was Lexa was thinking about, she suspects may be more or less of how she feels too. And she understands there’s not an adequate way of putting them into words.  

 

“And don’t feel bad about me missing lunch. I’m too nervous to eat anyway,” Clarke follows as she pulls back and pecks Lexa’s lips.

 

The hall is quieter now as everyone else is probably preparing for the ceremony as they should have been doing all along.

 

"Tonight won’t be a repeat of last time, Clarke. I’ll make sure of that. Your people will be safe just as I promised all those weeks ago.” It seems that Lexa knows her just as well.

 

“ _Our_ people,” Clarke corrects her with a hopeful smile.

 

“Our people.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Clarke is pissed.

 

She hasn’t been this mad since…well, just several days ago when the whole Pike war was going on. But this is a different kind of mad. The kind of mad that makes you feel stupid for even caring about it in the first place. Like the kind of mad someone feels when other kids in gym class picked them last. The petty kind of mad when some girl spreads a rumor about them. Or when someone says that they’re not good enough. Or that their girlfriend shouldn’t be trusted because she’s already killed a lot of innocent people and have betrayed them repeatedly that she’ll do it again.

 

_Fuck Octavia_ , Clarke thinks.

 

“Clarke, please sit still,” the young attendant with the mousy features says. Riva, Clarke learned is her name. “Your braids are very intricate and we will have to start over if you keep on fussing in your seat,” she says as she softly tugs the end of the blonde’s hair.

 

Clarke likes this one, she decided. Everyone else in the tower still calls her Wanheda. And even though she’s learning to accept its positive connotation and even responds to it without any more protest, the title still brings a painful pang in her chest when she lets herself really think about how she earned it in the first place. It’s getting fainter, but it’s there nonetheless. When Clarke was first brought to Polis, Riva was one of the first handmaidens she encountered. And when she saw Clarke’s eyes darken at the name, Riva never addressed her as Wanheda again, opting to use her name without being told. She was also the only one that could handle Clarke’s temper. The blonde was so angry all the time that the attendants and guards feared her and steered clear of her in hopes to stay in her good grace.

 

Not Riva, it seemed. She practically pushed Clarke into the bathtub when she refused to wash in defiance those first couple of days. She wasn’t afraid to voice her opinions when she thought Clarke was being particularly unreasonable, especially the way the blonde was acting towards her commander. She still treated her with respect of course, but she also made bold comments to Clarke that eventually started making sense. So Riva quickly became a confidant. A friend almost. And Clarke knows she needs more of those these days.

 

Her thoughts turn back to her recent encounter with Octavia.

 

Because of course Octavia just happened to be the only one in the hallway when her and Lexa left the room.

 

 

_“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” both of their heads turned quickly toward the voice._

_Clarke nodded at Lexa as if to tell her, I’ve got this, go. The commander looked like she was about to object but one look from Clarke told her otherwise. So Clarke watched Lexa’s back until she disappeared around the corner, taking with her all of Clarke’s confidence before turning back to her very angry friend._

_“Octavia, I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you’d still be in TonDC with Lincoln.”_

_“And I didn’t expect to see you,_ here. _With_ her,” _she replied irritably as she peered over Clarke’s shoulder into the room they were just in, “Except who am I kidding, of course I did.” She rolled her eyes as she was about to start walking._

_“What exactly do you want to say to me?” Clarke has had enough of these passive aggressive comments._

_Octavia stopped in her tracks, as if contemplating on whether or not to take the bait. She turned around to face Clarke once again, resentment clear in her features. “You really want to know?” She stepped forward so she’s standing toe to toe with Clarke, who so wanted to take a step back but managed to stay in her place._

_“248. Men, women, children. I’ve managed to learn all of their names during my stay in TonDC. I’ve helped rebuild the villages with my bare hands. I’ve heard their stories and have written them down so they can be remembered someday. I’ve cared after children who have lost their parents. And what have you been doing?” Octavia stepped even closer, “You left for three months not giving a shit about what you were leaving behind. You stayed here even after your mom and your friends told you they needed you. You’ve been living in luxury being treated like a princess while_ our _people were being exploited by Pike. And now you’re back here. Gallivanting in a palace like nothing happened with the person who started it all.”_

_Clarke was quiet for a few moments. Truthfully, there hasn’t been a day she doesn’t think of the casualties in this endless war. She hears them, sees them, even feels them. The missile, burnt bodies, red blotches on irradiated skin, the gun in her hand, the cold metal lever, and screaming. So much screaming. Every night when she closed her eyes, it felt like she was reliving every single one of these memories. It had really only lessened when she was with Lexa. And even then, they were still there. Like ghosts of her past floating in her mind that she suspects will haunt her forever._

_“You don’t think I feel for them?” Clarke asked in a small voice._

_She was met with silence._

_“I left because I_ feel _so much. Grief threatened to swallow me whole, and I had no idea how to be myself anymore. The only reason why I’m here and not rotting in the woods somewhere is because of Lexa. The only reason why your brother is still alive is because of Lexa. The only reason why the other clans haven’t wiped us out completely is because of Lexa.” She’s really sick of everyone blaming her and the commander. “Can’t you see? She gives us a chance to finally experience peace…”_

_“Lincoln almost died!” Octavia screamed with her fists clenched at her sides. “Lincoln almost died,” she repeated in a whisper, tears threatening to fall. “And he’s the only one that makes living in this shithole even remotely bearable.”_

_“And you don’t think we deserve that?” Clarke asked breathlessly, she didn’t know how she had stayed this calm. “Me and Lexa? What you and Lincoln are to each other, you don’t think we should have that? You don’t think we’ve earned a reprieve like everyone else?”_

_Not expecting an answer even a little bit, Clarke turned around and walked away. She waited until she was out of sight before she raised her hands to angrily wipe her tears. She didn’t see Octavia with her fists unclenched, shoulders hunched, and eyes softened as she watched Clarke’s retreating form._

Clarke is roused from her own thoughts when Riva takes her hand to lead her in front of a mirror. She gasps when she sees her own reflection. Her hair is styled similarly as the last time, with the top half pulled back and braided. Her flowy dark dress shows off her curves and one of her legs elegantly. There is a dash of war paint across her eyes that accentuates the blue orbs. And this, she thought might’ve been the only difference in her appearance from the last ceremony. Eyes that were darkened with hatred and anguish are now bright and hopeful. She remembers hating herself when she woke up every morning after the mountain and how she prayed her eyes would just stay closed the following day. Slowly, and without even realizing it, she’d begun looking forward to mornings in Polis. Looking forward to seeing the capital and everything it has to offer. She thinks of the person solely responsible for this change and immediately feels an excitement that was also most definitely not there the last time around.

 

“It’s time,” Riva says.

 

_You don’t think we deserve it?_ She hears herself ask. Clarke looks at her reflection for one more moment and what she sees staring back at her is someone who firmly believes that life should be about more than just surviving.

 

And she thinks to herself, _Yes, yes we do_.


	6. Six

It feels like a wedding.

 

Using the same path she did several weeks ago, Clarke walks toward the dais where Lexa stands in a dark flowy dress. She comes to a stop in a haze and locks eyes with the woman she guesses will be the only one capable of making her heart beat as fast as it beats at that moment. It feels like déjà vu since she was standing in this same exact spot not too long ago. Except last time felt like an arranged marriage, and this one feels like something she’s been waiting for her whole life. It feels silly to Clarke really, to be feeling that way when she knows the ceremony isn’t even at all about the two of them. But she can’t help it.

 

This is where it started after all. This is where she started to forgive Lexa, and in turn herself. This is where the commander bowed to her and practically promised her the world.

 

And it doesn’t help that Lexa is gazing back at her with an awestruck look on her face. Like no one else existed in the room besides the two of them. Like Clarke is the most beautiful woman on the planet. Like she’s peering into Clarke’s soul and is tying an invisible knot connected to hers so that she can be with her always. Like she’s so, _so_ in love that she doesn’t have a care in the world who knows at this point. Like exactly how Clarke feels. 

 

The room is quiet besides the steady beat of the drum in rhythm of Clarke’s pounding chest. She’s never felt quite like this before. One look from Lexa has stunned her over and over again in the past. But not like this. Right now, standing in the same room where Lexa single handedly started to melt her near frigid heart, Clarke feels overwhelmed that she thinks she could cry. She’s overwhelmed by the woman who carries the world on her shoulders, and doesn’t ask for anything back. Who has shown everyone kindness and has repeatedly proven that peace is attainable. Who loves so deeply and fiercely that it makes Clarke wonder what she did in her past life for her to deserve such a beautiful thing.

 

Clarke doesn’t notice the curious stares they are getting, particularly from her own mother, who is looking back and forth between her daughter and the commander. She doesn’t see her friends fidgeting in anticipation as everyone else in the room stands unmoving. She doesn’t see Titus’s displeased expression at such blatant lack of control they’re both showing. She doesn’t hear the drumming stop until the commander clears her throat, giving Clarke the cue for her to recite her short line.

 

Shaking her head slightly, Clarke forces her words out of her suddenly dry mouth, “The Skaikru pledges their allegiance to the coalition and vows to abide by the laws of your lands.”

 

She wants to say so much more. She wants to say that she herself, Wanheda, Clarke Griffin, swears fealty to Lexa Kom Trikru, and that she vows to treat her needs as her own, just as Lexa did. But instead, she looks up at the commander and whispers almost inaudibly, “Heda,” to which Lexa nods in acknowledgement.

 

It takes a moment for Lexa to regain her composure as well. Given that she’s been doing this for years, she continues the procession without any mishaps, pointedly trying to keep her eyes off the blond and miserably failing. She can only blame herself, she thinks, she’s the one who picked out Clarke’s dress in the first place.

 

The ceremony is short and uneventful with the commander re-introducing Clarke as the ambassador and Kane pulling up his sleeve to show the brand proving their loyalty. The room lets out a collective sigh when no one barged into the room proclaiming some kind of betrayal.

 

When it is over, Clarke is the first one to kneel, silently vowing to do everything in her power to protect, defend, and love this commander, and this commander only.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Celebrations are supposed to be fun. Especially the ones after a ceremony that seals your clan’s safety and promises a world full of endless possibilities rather than ongoing war and conflict.

 

But this party, Clarke thinks, gets a rating of a disappointing 5 out of 10. 2 for Raven getting drunk and currently dancing comically in the center of the grand hall by herself, while all the other guests stay three feet away. It seems that the only move she knows when she’s had this much to drink is flapping her arms around like she wants to hit someone. 2 for each time she gets to talk to Lexa for a short length of time. And 1 for the overall lively and friendly energy between all the clans for once.

 

The points start falling off mostly due to the fact that she hasn’t seen or spoken to Lexa as much. Every time the commander looks to be about done talking to warriors and clan leaders, she’s whisked away by other ambassadors or even just admirers. Clarke would’ve surely been jealous of these admirers if it wasn’t for the fact that she now knows Lexa’s telltale signs when she’s annoyed and just wants to outright leave the conversation. She sees the slight tightening of her jaw, the almost imperceptible raise of an eyebrow, and the hand touching her scabbard every now and then looking for her sword that’s most definitely not there. Being a commander is a never-ending job, it seems. For even though this is a celebration, and Lexa wants nothing more than to be by Clarke’s side, they both recognize the importance of talking to their people and securing the still delicate alliance.

 

The night is also soured by the fact that Clarke’s mother cornered her immediately after the ceremony, bluntly asking _‘just what in the hell is going on with you and Lexa’_. To which Clarke replied, _none of your business_ , or wishes she could have. Their relationship has been fragile ever since her father died, and she doesn’t think it’ll improve any time soon. Not after this recent revelation. For after nervous mumbling and stumbling over her words, Clarke finally blurted out that her and Lexa are together. And like any mother would do when their daughter is dating the most powerful woman on earth, Abby went on a tirade about it being the worst idea Clarke has ever had, and even going as far as suggesting Clarke to step down as the ambassador and come back to Arkadia where she’d be more useful. The conversation predictably didn’t go well and Abby left Clarke alone by the tables where she’s still quietly fuming.

 

Clarke can’t even imagine what it would be like if more people find out about her and Lexa. The few that now know more or less have the same attitude towards their relationship. She suspects it might literally start a war if they go public anytime soon. She’s seen it before very recently with the Ice Queen after all. When Lexa almost _died._ How could she let herself forget? She sighs to herself as she thinks of how unfair it all is. And alone in a crowded room, she lets herself feel what has been hiding beneath the magical fairytale she’s been living in the past several of days. Afraid. Clarke is dreadfully afraid.

 

“I have a second now,” she hears someone to her left say, stirring Clarke from her panic state caused by her overactive imagination.

 

“Huh?” Clarke turns to the voice and finds Octavia, still dressed in her warrior outfit, complete with dramatic war paint.

 

“I have a second now,” she repeats, “I found her wandering around the woods one day when I was hunting near TonDC. She just started following me around like a little puppy. Said she wanted to come to Polis with me when I mentioned I was going.”

 

Clarke stares at the side of her head as Octavia continues to avoid her eyes, “So you’re going to train her?” She decides to indulge her in a civil conversation even though Octavia’s words from earlier that day really hurt.

 

“Yes, so I’ll be sticking around for a little while. More trainees her age are here.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Yes, so if you want to…” Octavia clears her throat awkwardly, “You should come train with us when you’re not busy.” She finally looks at Clarke, “If you want to that is.”

 

Clarke smiles and thinks this is as close to an apology she’ll get right now, “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’d love to meet her.”

 

“Yeah, she’s a great kid. She’s around here somewhere,” Octavia says as she scans the crowd, “She’s probably lurking right now. She does that. She has real potential with the sword but is a little creepy with her lurking.” 

 

Despite their recent argument, Clarke laughs, instantly deciding that her night has just started to turn around.

 

“Bellamy didn’t want to come?” Clarke asks. She never had the chance to speak to him after the recent battle. He was nowhere to be found after, and she guesses that if she’s taking a little time forgiving him, Bellamy will take even longer to forgive himself. She knows exactly what that’s like.

 

Octavia sips her drink for a moment, and Clarke isn’t sure if she’ll answer the question. She looks down at her shoes self-consciously, the first time in a while Clarke has seen her uncomfortable, “No. He’s too busy feeling guilty… about everything.”

 

Clarke doesn’t say anything back. Yes, she knows exactly what that’s like.

 

“Oh, there she is,” Octavia points to the other side of the room where she’s swiftly walking to with Clarke in tow.

 

The girl with the sandy untamed locks currently facing away, looks to only reach Octavia’s waist by height.

 

She jumps a little when Octavia touches her shoulder and turns her around, “Clarke, I want you to meet...” Octavia doesn’t get to finish her words as the girl shrugs her hand off and instantly disappears into the crowd after she locks her widened eyes with Clarke’s. “What the hell?”

 

Clarke looks at where the girl had disappeared to in puzzlement.

 

“Sorry,” Octavia says as she touches her neck in embarrassment, “I told you she’s a little strange. And rude too. I’ll have to teach her some manners.”

 

Clarke cranes her neck and scans the crowd some more. She knows she’s never met the girl, but something seems familiar. Where has she seen that expression before? There’s definitely an uncanny resemblance…

 

“Heda,” Octavia says and Clarke instantly snaps her head to where the commander is standing a little ways from them. “I’ll leave you two be. I’m tired, I should go to bed soon,” she nods.

 

They both watch her leave and turn to each other with the biggest smiles they’ve worn the whole night.

 

Lexa steps closer with her hands behind her back, “What about you, Clarke? Are you tired?”

 

Clarke fakes a yawn, “Yeah, I should go to bed soon too.”

 

Lexa replies with a suggestive smirk, “That’s too bad.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Clarke enters the candle-lit room and finds Lexa standing by the window, lost in thought as she watches the still very lively celebration that has now made its way outside of the tower and out in the streets. Now that she is officially an ambassador again, Clarke has reclaimed her old room thankfully situated on the same floor where the commander’s quarters lie. Lexa too is still wearing the dark dress from the ceremony that bares her marks from behind. Clarke pauses just for a moment to admire the view as she recalls the shiver that ran through Lexa’s spine when Clarke traced it with delicate fingers the first time they were together.

 

Lexa doesn’t turn around, although Clarke knows she heard her come in. Clarke proceeds to walk slowly and quietly toward her, not wanting to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. She was going to stand next to Lexa in an attempt to not disturb the woman’s pensive thoughts. But unable to help herself from the magnetic pull the commander seems to have on her, puts her arms around Lexa instead. And when Clarke rests her chin on Lexa’s shoulder she feels the other woman's body go slack against hers. As if being in Clarke’s arms is the last thing she needed to fully shed the commander exterior, leaving just the woman Lexa in its wake. They stay like that in a comfortable silence, taking pleasure in the fact that for a little bit, even as short as the darkness cloaks them, they can just be two normal women coming home to their love at the end of the night.

 

“I told my mom,” Clarke mumbles against Lexa’s neck.

 

Lexa’s body goes rigid, “And? What did she say?”

 

“You know, typical mom things,” she sighs, “She’s leaving tomorrow and wants me to go with her.”

 

“And? What did you say?”

 

Clarke kisses her shoulder, “What do you think I said? I told her I’d be ready by sunrise.”

 

Lexa quickly turns her head towards Clarke with her eyebrows furrowed and that familiar pout. She’s quiet for a moment and she can tell Clarke is trying not to laugh by the way she is concealing her mouth against Lexa’s shoulder, “Oh. That’s a joke. You Skaikru and your odd sense of humor,” she sighs in relief, smile reaching her eyes as she turns to watch the crowd some more.

 

 Clarke hums in response, “Says the girl who thinks ‘butt’ is a funny word.”

 

Lexa chuckles as she turns around to face the other woman, "You look beautiful tonight, Clarke"

 

"So do you," Clarke smiles and kisses her tenderly.

 

Clarke keeps her hands on Lexa's waist as she positions Lexa’s arms around her neck. The music from the festivities can be faintly heard from where they are and Clarke starts swinging to the sound, leading Lexa to follow her movements.

 

Lexa laughed lightly, "What are you doing?"

 

"Shh... we're dancing. Just go with it," Clarke replies with a smile.

 

They move awkwardly at first, laughing when each other’s feet are stepped on, considering that the commander has never had the need to dance before. But Lexa is a natural, just like with everything else she does, and they are soon gliding effortlessly across the hardwood floor. Even going as far as twirling Clarke smoothly like what she has seen the Skaikru like to do. What started off as a playful experiment soon turned to a sensual sway as Lexa kisses the blonde’s neck and Clarke intuitively pulls her closer. So close, that Clarke thinks if she closes her eyes and wills it, they’ll eventually just merge into one.

 

They kiss, tenderly at first. With Lexa holding Clarke’s head lightly as she captures her lips over and over again. A slight bite on Lexa’s lower lip gives way to the inevitable passion they seem to have every time they’re in this same exact position. Eventually, they grab at each other's waists, longing to feel the closeness of each other. Lexa breaks apart from the kiss and carefully slips Clarke’s straps off her shoulders until the garment lays in a pool at the blonde’s feet.

 

She pulls away and lets her eyes trail Clarke's whole body, inch by inch, as if committing the image to memory and locking it away with a key. Her pupils are blown and darkened by desire as she smiles a knowing smile, “I was right.” She finally meets Clarke’s equally hooded gaze, “Beautiful,” Lexa breathes out and kisses her with such force, that Clarke actually staggers back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They lay on their sides facing each other with Clarke’s leg over Lexa’s hip. This seems to be her favorite position when laying down.

 

Her eyes are closed but despite the fact that sleep has been calling her name, Clarke’s mind still races with her thoughts from earlier tonight, "Lexa?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you afraid?" Clarke asks, hoping the darkness can disguise the apprehension in her voice.

 

Lexa opens her eyes at that. She sighs and replies tenderly, "I'm always going to be afraid of losing you, Clarke." She pushes Clarke's hair back and absently plays with it, needing something to do with her hands. "But what happened with… what happened before. I won’t let that happen. Not again. Not you.”

 

Clarke is instantly taken back to Lexa’s first confession in her tent. _Not everyone, not you_.

 

“I know that. I’m not talking about that though,” Clarke says as she moves closer so they are sharing the same pillow, “What if someone out there finds out about us and uses it to challenge you again?”

 

“Then they die. Just like Nia did,” she replies matter of factly.

Clarke sighs exasperatedly, “You can’t promise that.” As much as she tried hating her at the time, Lexa on her back lifeless with a spear in her chest became a constant nightmare along with her many other ones after that combat. “Watching you that day… I just. I don’t want to go through that again.”

 

“Oh,” Lexa says quietly. She didn’t realize Clarke felt that way about her then. And even though she knows there are going to be plenty who will still want to challenge her, not just because of Clarke, but simply because she is the commander and that’s just the way things are, she doesn’t voice her thoughts. She touches Clarke’s cheek hoping to comfort her, “Well then we’ll be more careful.”

 

Clarke kisses her then, not the least bit reassured but thankful for Lexa otherwise.

 

“Of course if you find that being with me is too hard, I’d understand,” Lexa says in a small voice. It seems that she has been withholding some of her anxieties as well.  

 

“What’re you talking about?”

 

“You’ve always said that you don’t want to be a leader. But Clarke, I’m the commander, and you’re an ambassador for your people. It’s unavoidable for you and I to make hard decisions. And if you…” Lexa takes a deep breath, “If you find that it’s easier for you to go back to Arkadia just as your mother suggested or if you find that being with someone else that’s not the commander is better for you, I’d understand.”

 

Clarke is reminded again of how selfless and just how _good_ Lexa is, and she didn’t think it was possible, but she loves her even more at that moment. She moves even closer then, resting her forehead against the other woman’s, “Heda or not, I only want you.”

 

Lexa utters an audible sigh of relief. “You’re sure you don’t want anyone else? Like that tall, lanky boy or the one with the almond-shaped eyes?” She follows playfully.

 

“Jasper and Monty? Nah, not my type.”

 

“What about that tall girl with the yellow hair?”

 

“Harper? Mmm, maybe her,” Clarke chuckles lightly, “No, still just you.”

 

“Or _Bellamy_?” Lexa says with an obvious hint of jealousy.

 

"Ah, there it is,” Clarke smiles as she pokes Lexa’s ribs, “Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

 

“No,” Lexa purses her lips.

 

“He does have nice hair,” Clarke says teasingly. She smiles at Lexa’s raised eyebrow and reaches out to comb her fingers through brown locks, “But not as nice as yours.” Still feeling amused with herself, she guides her hand down to Lexa's breasts, "And he doesn't have  _these_  glorious things."

 

At that, Lexa laughs. She does it so much more these days, but Clarke thinks hearing it each time is just as captivating as it was the first time. It’s guttural. It’s enticing. It’s infectious. It’s  _alive._

 

Clarke has never been pious. But that night she prayed to whoever is listening that she’ll be graced with it forever.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s weird seeing them like that, she thinks. Not the overflowing affection. That’s always been there.

 

But the careless expression of it when the coalition is not fully intact. Do they not know that their longing glances across the room do not go unnoticed? Do they not care that these innocent brushing of hands whenever they’re in the same room aren’t ignored? Do they not realize that someone can use this against them?

 

She didn’t think she was going to run into Clarke that soon either. She was hoping to keep a low profile for some time, but that seems fruitless now that she ran away from her like a crazy person. She couldn’t help it, she panicked. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to request being Octavia’s second in the first place. Thinking back on it now, she thinks she could’ve found Polis on her own.

 

Even now, as she quietly follows the pair on their way to retire for the night, she rolls her eyes at the rashness as both look around shoddily and hold each other’s hands in the same beat when they decide that no one is watching. Either she’s getting really good at hide and seek, or they both have bad eyesight.

_So careless._

She averts her eyes when she hears a loud thump and sees the Heda press Clarke against the wall to kiss her.

 

_And so over-the-top._

At least one person here knows they’re being watched. And she’s watching right back.

 

Because love is weakness, they said. And it may get her Heda killed. Maybe it already has.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never had anyone read anything I've written (besides teachers/professors). I've always been self-conscious of showing them to anyone. With a little bit of courage juice, I drunkenly posted the first four chapters thinking nothing of it. I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache along with nice words and kudos and whatnot. That was awesome. Thank you for reading :)


	7. Seven

 

 

“So are you staying or what?” Clarke asks as she lays in bed suddenly very awake now, even though the sun has barely even risen.

 

She looks down at Lexa, already dressed in her commander attire for the day, and hears her mumble a reply incoherently.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Lexa’s mouth makes a popping sound. It’s hard to talk when it’s occupied with Clarke’s breasts. She settles on kissing the blonde’s sternum, “I said, or what.”

 

Clarke sighs bitterly, “So you’re going to wake me up by sucking on my…” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as Lexa places her mouth firmly against her own.

 

“I just wanted to say have a nice day,” Lexa smiles innocently.

 

“Okay, I hope you have a nice day too,” Clarke replies with a small smile on her face, even though she still doesn’t appreciate her lover riling her up with no promise of action after.

 

“Oh, I was saying ‘have a nice day’ to these,” Lexa says cheekily as she cups Clarke’s breasts once again, “But I hope yours is too.”

 

She laughs as she leans down to give Clarke another kiss who playfully shoves her in response, “I think I liked it better when you didn’t have a sense of humor. Now, get out of here. Before your generals hate me even more.”

 

Lexa chuckles as she gets up from the bed and start heading for the door.

 

“Lexa!”

 

The commander turns around with a startled look, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I love you,” Clarke smiles as she settles her head on her arm.

 

She doesn’t miss the other woman’s obvious eye roll who takes quick strides back to where she’s laying to kiss her one more time, “I love you too,” she says, “And stop being dramatic. I will see you at the meeting this afternoon. Don’t be late.”

 

“I’m never late.”

 

Lexa only raises an eyebrow, as just the day before, Clarke walked into a very quiet meeting room five minutes after it was supposed to start with everyone else already seated. She was reprimanded by a visibly aggravated Heda who promised not to be so lenient the next time the Skaikru ambassador is tardy. Everyone in the room sat uneasily, having witnessed their commander stay true to her word when her patience is tested.

 

Clarke lowered her head in deference with an apologetic expression. She looked like she was frightened by the commander’s statement when in fact, it had the complete opposite effect. Instead, Clarke sat for a whole hour clenching her legs together in discomfort with how turned on she was, and that was definitely something new. She’s uncovering more and more new revelations with her and Lexa’s relationship, and she’s loving every second of it.

 

One of them being that Clarke finds the commanding Heda voice so arousing that she couldn’t help but follow Lexa to her sleeping quarters right after the meeting. And it seemed that Lexa was on the same page as when Clarke entered the room and they locked eyes, both women readily discarded their own clothes before they even reached each other.

 

 

_“What’s my punishment, Heda?” Clarke asked as she pulled back from an impassioned kiss that threatened to cut the oxygen supply from her lungs._

_“Shof op, Clarke,” Lexa growled as she connected their lips again and pulled Clarke so close that their bare chests pressed firmly together, sending a new jolt of arousal ready to burst at any moment. She pushed the blonde onto the bed none too gently, causing Clarke to yelp and chuckle lightly. The chuckling quickly ceased, replaced with a mix of gasp and moan when Lexa kissed her neck, clavicle, and then shoulder, where the commander connected her whole mouth to the skin on display, tongue and teeth and all._

_Yes, Clarke loves gentle Lexa. But she also really, really loves in-control Heda._

The mere thought of the day before brings a flush to both of their faces and Lexa looks like she’s actually contemplating if she shouldn’t leave after all. But as much as she wants to stay, given that Clarke is still not wearing any clothes with her cleavage seductively peeking out of the furs, she knows she still has a coalition to run. Although Lexa is coming around to the idea that she can also have a life outside of being Heda, she knows her wants and needs will just have to wait a little longer. Preferably by dinner time, that is.

 

“That was one time, Lexa. And I was only like, four minutes late.”

 

Lexa gives her an impassive expression, “I’m serious Clarke.”

 

For even though they enjoy this recent element of their relationship, they are very much aware of what people may think if Lexa is seen favoring an ambassador.

 

“I know, I won’t be late. I promise,” Clarke assures her as Lexa opens the door with a pleased smile.

 

Clarke tries to fall back asleep, considering she probably has only had a few hours of rest the night before. She forcibly closes her eyes in hopes her body will eventually get the hint, but to no avail. She throws the blankets off her and gets up to put on her robe that’s now permanently in Lexa’s room, silently cursing her girlfriend for leaving her at such a state, but smiles to herself wickedly as she thinks of several things the commander can do to repay her.

 

It’s been over two weeks since the Skaikru was inducted as the thirteenth clan. Most of the clan leaders and visitors from all over have left, save for a few that live in the farthest lands who extended their visit as they don’t get to visit Polis as much. Everything is back to normal, or as normal as can be when everyone is holding their breath, waiting for the next catastrophe to happen.

 

It thankfully hasn’t happened and Clarke is left with so much free time that she finds herself doing things she never got to do before. She helps out at the hospital from time to time when they are short staffed, and stops by the orphanage to play with the children. She visits the markets almost every day, discovering new grounder customs and tasting new things they never had on the ark.

 

Her attendant Riva even taught her how to bake bread, which she still hasn’t perfected. The last time she snuck into the commander’s room covered in flour, she brought a slice of it for Lexa, who took minutes chewing a little piece given that it threatened to break her teeth. They laughed about it and discarded the rest, deciding to take a bath together instead. Although the bread making was a fail, that afternoon couldn’t be any more perfect. Lexa found Clarke so cute covered in flour that she couldn’t help but pick her up with Clarke’s legs around her waist and carry her all the way to the bathroom where they spent too much time that their skin stayed wrinkly even hours after leaving the water.

 

Oh, and sex. She’s been having so much sex that Clarke thinks she should be sick of it by now. She knows this honeymoon phase of wanting to tear each other’s clothes off every time they see each other will pass, even though she kind of hopes it doesn’t. She supposes that it only means that she can look forward to having an established relationship, and maybe do domesticated things together, which she’s definitely excited for. Like baking bread, and preparing baths, and laying out each other’s clothes. Of course, these need to be done in secret as they’re still not ready to disclose their relationship. Or more like, the world isn’t ready for that just yet.

 

Clarke sits down on Lexa’s couch and continues to draw the unfinished sketch she was doing the night before. She has taken to drawing animals lately, now that she has seen more of them on the ground. Just the other day, she saw a real life dog, and even though it scared the shit out of her when it started barking, she still thought it was cute.

_Oooh, maybe we’ll get a pet someday_ , she thinks to herself. _A dog or a cat if Lexa’s not allergic._ She smiles to herself as she imagines the Heda trying and failing to discipline an adorable puppy. And then she imagines the Heda trying to discipline an even more adorable child with chubby legs and curly hair and big bright eyes, and. She drops her pencil and sighs to herself. It’s useless to envision things that’ll never happen.

 

Deciding that she’s had enough of drawing and day-dreaming for the day, Clarke gets up and readies herself for a bath. As she lets her body sink into the nice warm water, she feels something that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. She feels relaxed, but there’s also something else…

 

Clarke chuckles out loud for actually forgetting the word.

 

Bored, that’s what it is.

 

She’s bored as fuck.

 

And later, much later, she curses at herself for ever thinking that’s a bad thing.

 

* * *

 

 

 

There might as well be a little coil of metal in Lexa’s boots by the way she’s practically bouncing as she walks around Polis.

 

The meeting with her generals had been cut short, considering there’s not much to report these days. She panics for a moment, thinking it’s quiet, way too quiet, and from past experience, that silence never lasts. She still has spies all around her lands just in case, but she is for once feeling hopeful that they won’t show up any time soon with some dire news.

 

She barely pays attention to Titus droning on about clan reports, as if she wasn’t in those meetings herself. Everyone they have encountered so far has greeted her with much enthusiasm. It seems that their Heda’s happiness is contagious, as a happy commander might very well mean an end to a war-filled era just as she promised.

 

_And it’s all because of Clarke_ , she ducks down to hide her smile at the thought of the blonde. It would look strange for the commander to just smile randomly with only Titus by her side when everyone knows the flamekeeper isn’t at all funny.

 

But it’s not just the fact that these past weeks with Clarke have been the best ones she’s had in years.

 

Sure, she doesn’t get as many hours of sleep during the nights Clarke manages to sneak into her chambers, given that they end up staying up late talking or _not talking at all_. But those are the most restful nights Lexa has had – when she dozes off with a small smile still on her face, echoing tender confessions whispered in the dark, or when she falls asleep breathing in Clarke’s scent as she burrows her nose onto the blonde’s neck, or when Clarke throws her arm around Lexa from behind and manages to keep their hands interlocked the whole night, or even when Clarke somehow ends up literally on top of her that she wonders how she stays asleep at all.

 

Sure, she takes a little bit longer getting up and getting ready those mornings she wakes up with Clarke. But those are the mornings she wakes up the happiest – when she turns to her right and sees the blonde’s angelic-like features while peacefully slumbering, or when she cracks her eyes open and she’s readily greeted by ocean filled eyes she could easily drown in, or when she is woken up by being peppered with kisses all over her face, or especially when those kisses eventually turn to something more.

 

It’s because of these days and nights that she has a reinvigorated vision for not just herself and Clarke, but for the rest of her people. Her plans for fair peaceful trades between all clans are slowly coming to fruition. Just the week before, she and Clarke proposed a trade agreement in which clans trade goods or skills with Skaikru that will help them survive on the ground in exchange for various technology they came prepared to demonstrate. The others were particularly interested in those small wires in glass containers that can illuminate homes, and even whole villages just from direct exposure from the sun.

 

She and Clarke even convinced the clan leaders with no protest that those who want to learn to read and write may come to Polis once they get enough volunteers to teach them. _Like school,_ Clarke said with a hopeful smile to which Lexa looked at her curiously. Clarke then explained that they can have reading and writing lessons, but still train as warriors the other half of the day. _Like gym class_ , Clarke squealed excitedly.

 

She reflects on how much has been achieved in the short time she has ascended and ever since the Skaikru landed and the many more they can accomplish with Clarke by her side. Though it happened with a lot of obstacles, death, and betrayal, she thinks the present state of her people and her personal life makes it all worth it.

_Victory stands on the back of sacrifice_ after all, as Anya taught her. Lexa feels a pang in her chest when she thinks of her first and the fact that she isn’t here to share this victory with her. She imagines Anya would wear that passive expression she has even when glowing with pride inside. She then ponders of what she would say about Lexa and Clarke but her thoughts are interrupted when a piercing shout tearing through the air catches her attention.

 

On her back in the middle of the training grounds, is a child wearing an armor many sizes too big for her small frame and above her, an even bigger boy leering at his opponent.

 

The girl is slow to get up, clutching her staff and using it to reach an upright position. She expertly twirls it around her nimble hands and glares at her opponent who only chuckles in response, causing a few other bystanders to do the same. It looks comical coming from such a small girl, but Lexa knows that look all too well, wears that look herself all the time. That’s the look of determination. And this one is very, very determined.

 

“Heda? Did you hear what I just said?” Titus asks, even though he knows very well Lexa hadn’t been paying attention for a while now.

 

Lexa doesn’t say a word and holds her hand out in a gesture to _please be quiet_.

 

For the girl with the wild hair has recovered quickly and is attacking viciously now, repeatedly cornering her opponent who is clearly taken off-guard by the onslaught from such a small human. Lexa watches as she twists her body to her right, and then to her left, answering her opponent’s counterattacks. And the warrior in Heda predicts that the girl would eventually duck down and swipe her feet to trip her opponent and get him on his back or maybe hit his hand so he drops his own weapon so she can finish the job just as others would do.

 

The Heda’s brows furrow because the girl does neither. Instead, she manages to twist her opponent’s arms behind his back using a weapon taller than her, kicks the back of his legs, and forces him to use his own weight to land on his front instead, prompting the boy to make a humiliating high-pitched yelp.

 

And Lexa can’t stop staring because the girl just did what Lexa would have done if she was still that small.

 

The girl just did exactly what Lexa did when she was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The applause is faint even with the bustling training grounds at this time of the day.

 

It seems like the spectators don’t quite know how to react to a girl outdoing a bigger opponent, who also happens to be the most promising second in training. Tren, who is the boy’s first, has a grim set to his mouth, outwardly showing his disappointment in his apprentice even while nodding in her direction.

 

But she couldn’t care less.

 

Despite her hair sticking up wildly, her whole body drenched in sweat, and her bones and muscles aching, she can’t help but grin triumphantly as she walks over to her first who is for once, beaming back with pride.

 

It amuses her to no end that Octavia is perfectly wedged amid Skaikru and Trikru demeanor. She barely sees grounder warriors smile as much as Octavia does, even though that’s also few and far in between. She talks funny, sometimes mixing Gonasleng with Trigadesleng, which she cleverly decided is called Gonatrigesleng. She can tell that her first tries to remain stoic to be in sync with grounder warriors around her, but there are times when it’s evident that the silence is driving her insane and those are the times she can’t make Octavia shut up. As maddening as it is when she is trying to concentrate on her training and her mission, it’s also kind of funny. Nostalgic in a way. It makes her think of home. And she can’t decide if it makes her miss it less or more.

 

Even now Octavia is practically bobbing with excitement she is trying very hard to contain as she reaches her, “That was great! I mean, you definitely did not follow my instructions when I said to get rid of his weapon, but that was impressive.” She raises her hand with her palm up in front of the girl’s face.

 

She knows what this is, of course. But she enjoys tormenting her mentor so she raises an eyebrow and looks at her inquiringly.

 

Octavia drops her hand in realization that they don’t do high fives here. She clears her throat awkwardly and holds out her arm instead, which the girl grasps with an amused smile, “Great job,” she repeats, “Where did you learn that anyway?”

 

“Thank you, I…” her words drift off as she sees the Heda making her way toward them with a very irritated Titus on her heels.

 

“Yes, where did you learn that?” the Heda asks as she reaches them. She stands regally, with her spine perfectly straight and her hands behind her back. And she doesn’t exactly look mad, but disturbed maybe, or curious. Very curious.

 

The girl’s eyes widen as she takes in the Heda, and she wants to run away and disappear in the crowd simply because that’s always the easiest thing to do and it’s what she’s good at. But there’s nowhere to hide considering they are outside and the crowd has scattered all over. She stands there unmoving and silent and sees the Heda raise an eyebrow and look at Octavia questioningly, probably wondering if she’s dull-witted.

 

Octavia bumps her shoulder and speaks to her through gritted teeth, “Heda is asking you a question,” irritation very clear in her tone. This is her first trainee after all.

 

“Oh, umm…” she mumbles. She stutters and mumbles and stutters again and it has probably already been a whole minute of her just making sounds with her mouth without actually saying anything. For here she stands in front of a youthful Heda, radiating so much poise as she always has. Exuding that natural confidence people have a hard time imitating. Exactly how she imagined her to be. 

 

The commander raises both of her eyebrows this time and starts to turn away, deciding she actually doesn’t care anymore.

 

Octavia glares at her second like she’s going to make her run around the training grounds for the rest of the day for embarrassing her in front of the commander. And that definitely won’t be fun.

 

“I had a mentor,” she finally blurts out, “Before Octavia, I had a different first. I learned it from her.”

 

The Heda turns back with her ears clearly perked up, “I see. And who is this mentor?”

 

The girl is silent for only a moment, “She’s… she’s somewhere.” She looks down at her mud-covered boots, her wiry hair covering her face.

 

Today is a good day to test Lexa’s patience it seems, as she’s in such a good mood that she doesn’t even roll her eyes at the lack of training in conversation this little warrior has. She’s going to have to speak to Octavia to remedy that. The commander only keeps an impassive expression, “Right. And what is your name?”

 

The girl is silent for several moments this time as she looks up.

 

“Onya,” she breathes out, watching the commander raise her head minutely at that, “My name is Onya.”


	8. Eight

 

There’s a painting on the first floor of the tower that she has never seen before.

  
  
The image has varying hues on every surface as if the artist was excited to receive the gift of colors and simply wanted to use all of them at the same time. The blues at the top is interrupted with oranges and reds and yellows that reach the verdant bottom. It has an assorted type of greens, capturing most, if not all of the ways the trees and grass look like at different times of the year. It’s bright and vibrant and lively that one glance of the masterpiece will immediately provoke a cheerful response.

  
  
But anyone who knows what to look for can tell that the tale behind it isn’t entirely as happy as it looks from first glimpse. If one were to look closely, they’d see that the oranges and reds and yellows clash with the greenery. That the faint russet that reaches the cloudless sky could very well be the smoke from it. If one were to reflect on the artist’s experiences, they’d know that all these types of crimson depict the destruction she’s caused on the ground. That despite the hopeful illustration of a better tomorrow, the small charred surface she left, much like the black blotches on the painting, is forever tied to her.

  
  
She hears someone awkwardly shuffling in their feet behind her. She knows who it is without looking. She doesn’t turn around just yet though. Not when a mere painting is causing her heart to constrict in a familiar painful way. And not when she’s caught red handed meticulously staring at it.

 

Because seven-year-old-warriors in training aren’t supposed to be interested in paintings for gods sakes.

  
  
The shuffling stops, as if whoever it was just now realized they’re making too much noise in the deserted hallway. And they’re both left in a stifling silence that neither wants to break.

 

* * *

  
  
Clarke sees her eyeing the painting with a look of concentration she knows is there even with her back turned to her. She sees her raise a hand every now and then, cautiously touching the raised surface of the canvas before assuming her former position with her hands behind her back. She seems older than she looks. Like she was forced to grow up too fast before ever having a proper childhood, _much like Lexa_ , Clarke thinks.

  
  
In the short time that they’ve been back in Polis, Clarke and Lexa make it a daily habit to learn at least one new thing about each other. Clarke tells her things about the Ark and her first days on earth, and Lexa tells her about her life in a small village far away from Polis. Lexa has been good at slowly opening up to Clarke – telling her bits and pieces of her childhood and years before she became the commander. Of all the things they talk about, and they certainly talk about a lot, Lexa’s childhood is definitely Clarke’s favorite topic. She loves her girlfriend’s tales of little Lexa running around the woods causing trouble with a gang of bandits she recruited.

  
  
They’re not all happy tales. In fact, they’re mostly heartbreaking, considering Lexa doesn’t have any family left. Had been an orphan longer than she wasn’t. But Clarke feels lucky to be privy to these stories. And even luckier that she’s the one that gets to hold Lexa close when these memories get to be too much.

  
  
Clarke sees the girl touch the edge of the canvas again with a brooding expression, and she wonders for a moment what kind of hell this one has gone through in the short years she’s been alive.

  
  
It makes the blonde nervous having someone scrutinize her work like this. The painting has been up there for two days now and those that pass it simply comment on the wonderful colors or just altogether ignore it. The only other person that looked at her work with the same mesmerized expression was Lexa, who is probably currently wondering where Clarke is at that moment as they were supposed to meet before supper.

  
  
She remembers the way Lexa got quiet when she first saw the painting, and Clarke’s cheeks quickly became heated in self-consciousness.  
  
_  
“You’re amazing, Clarke,” Lexa whispered after a few minutes, squatting down upon finding Clarke sat cross-legged on the floor._

_  
She turned to her without another word and wrapped Clarke up in a coma-inducing embrace. Wordlessly saying that she understands. That she too, has demons she has yet to slay. That she’s with her always, no matter what. They stayed that way for a long time until the awkward position of sitting on the floor enfolded in each other’s arms started to hurt and the tear-soaked fabric of their clothes started to become noticeable. Lexa only moved to guide her to the couch where Clarke sat on her lap and continued to clutch onto her like Lexa was her lifeline. And Lexa desperately grasped her back like Clarke was hers._

  
Clarke reluctantly let Lexa put the painting on display for everyone to see. She felt uneasy having her work be seen, especially one so personal. But Lexa was proud of her. And if it’s the only way Lexa can somehow show off her girlfriend, then Clarke supposes she’ll just get over it eventually.

  
  
She remembers feeling overwhelmed with emotion that night. And it’s a reminder that even though she couldn’t ask for anything more, having someone like Lexa by her side, her past will continue to haunt her during the most unexpected times.

  
  
And she can’t explain why, but the little girl looking up at her work just like Lexa did, standing in concentration just like Lexa does, brings back that same overwhelming feeling from that night.

  
  
Onya, Clarke remembers. She remembers because Lexa came in to her room distracted and bemused when she saw the girl on the training grounds earlier that day. Like Lexa met someone she’s known for a long time, for the first time, if that even made sense. She remembers because that’s what Clarke first thought too when she saw her the night of the ceremony.

  
  
“Do you enjoy paintings?” Clarke asks quietly, breaking the silence but not wanting to startle the girl.

  
  
The girl keeps her eyes trained in front of her, and Clarke doesn’t know if she’ll answer. Still, she stays put.

  
  
“Yes,” Onya says with an obvious strain in her voice, “It’s beautiful.”

  
  
“Thank you,” Clarke replies, still a little bit timid. “I’m Clarke, by the way. Do you like drawing?”

  
  
“I know who you are,” she replies, not unkindly but as an obviously, I know the famous Wanheda. Her face softens as she looks at Clarke properly, “My name is Onya,” she says as she fully takes in Clarke, who appears uncharacteristically anxious,“I don’t have time to draw. But when I do, I enjoy it. Mostly animals.” She eyes the painting again, “I’m not at this skill level yet though. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  
  
“Octavia has been keeping you busy with training it seems. Lex… Heda even mentioned that you’re very good with different types of weapons. But when you want to just sit and draw or paint, you should come find me. It’s nice to wind down and not tire yourself out all the time.”

  
  
Before she could even stop herself, Onya whispers almost to herself, “Yeah, that’s what my mother says.”

  
  
They eye each other then, as if they want to say something more, but not quite sure what. Onya visibly shrinks into herself, looking every bit her young age being under Clarke’s scrutinizing gaze. And Clarke sees that familiar pout again and she doesn’t know why, but she feels an urge to wrap this girl up in her arms.

  
  
They’re thankfully saved from that awkwardness by the sounds of loud footsteps coming from the stairwell, and Clarke’s eyes immediately brighten at the sight of Lexa.

  
  
Lexa smiles that small smile of hers and Clarke can’t help but mimic it right back.

  
  
They stand close to each other, not saying anything for a few moments, seemingly forgetting that there’s someone else in the hallway other than them. They don’t notice Onya eyeing them together with a small smile of her own.

  
  
“Sorry, I’m late for um,” Clarke starts to say, “Our meeting. I got sidetracked.” She looks at Onya then who is still standing by her painting.

  
  
“She’s very talented, isn’t she?” Lexa asks ignoring Clarke’s bashful eye roll she sees in her peripheral vision.

  
  
“Yes, she’s very good,” Onya replies, a little more confident now than she was on the training grounds.

  
  
“Well we should head to our… meeting,” Clarke interrupts, “I’ll see you around?” she asks to which the girl only nods respectfully to both of them.

  
  
Onya starts walking in the other direction while Clarke and Lexa make their way up the stairs. She turns around to look at them once more and hears them talking in low voices, probably reciting love poems to each other now that no one is there. Lexa doesn’t even bother to look around when she stops and leans in to kiss the other woman’s forehead, causing Clarke to blush and sway in place. As sweet as it, they really need to stop doing that in public places, she thinks to herself.

  
  
She turns around and resumes walking, rolling her eyes as she huffs, “ _Jesus_.”

  
  
Lexa turns her head quickly at that, and Clarke eyes her questioningly, “What is it?”

  
  
“I thought I heard…” Her brows furrow before shaking her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” squeezing Clarke’s hand reassuringly. “I’ve got new wine for us to try tonight by the way.”

  
  
“Will you be drinking more than one glass this time? Because last time, I ended up finishing the whole bottle and you made fun of me when I fell on my face. I couldn’t even walk straight from your couch to the bed.”

  
  
Lexa chuckles at the memory and gives her hand another squeeze, “Only if you’re good.”

  
  
“I’m always good,” she replies provocatively.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?” Clarke says with a devilish smirk.

 

They’re on their fourth or fifth glass of wine, and Clarke introduced the game she used to pass time on the Ark for them to play without much protest. Not when she moved to straddle Lexa, complete with a pout, saying pleeeease. Please, Lexa just play.

 

Lexa sighs with a smile, pretending to be irritated but loving everything about that moment. She doesn’t care that Clarke asks her silly questions or dares her to do even sillier things. How could she when she’s lounging on her couch in the comfort of her own home, with a girl she’s been in love with for who knows how long sitting comfortably on her lap.

 

Lexa grasps her waist and kisses her quickly, “Okay, truth.”

 

The blonde smiles again as she combs through brown locks free from braids for the day. “Alright. What did you think of me when we first met?”

 

“Well, I didn’t kill you did I?”

 

Clarke laughs even though she knows full well Lexa could have killed her and probably even wanted to, to a degree, “Yeah, but what did you think?” She leans forward and brushes her lips against the other woman’s forehead, trying to hide her apprehension. She really just wants to know if Lexa thought of Clarke the way Clarke did that first time they met. If it was an instant attraction for the commander as it was for her.

 

“You had impressive bruises and cuts on your face,” Lexa says and she smiles as Clarke ducks her head. “And I still thought you were beautiful.”

 

“Yeah?” Clarke looks up to meet her eyes.

 

Lexa places her hands on the blonde’s lower back to pull her closer, “Not just your face or anything, although trust me I noticed that. But you were so brave. So bold. So very crazy and foolish for not being afraid of me.”

 

They both chuckle at the memory. And it felt right. Laughing at the circumstances that brought them together, no matter how vicious they were.

 

“Oh trust me, I was very afraid.”

 

Lexa hums in response and kisses her again just because she can. And just because she knows Clarke will chase her lips for another.

 

Truthfully though, it unnerved her a little in the beginning how Clarke wasn’t easily intimidated as everyone else. But not long after, that sentiment turned to intrigue, and then admiration, and now they’re here, freely holding each other. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“Didn’t seem like it. Your turn, truth or dare.”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Okay,” Lexa is quiet for a few moments. Even with her head swimming with wine, she knows she should tread carefully about this one.

 

“When did you....” she whispers and stops herself at Clarke’s concerned expression at her sudden change in demeanor. “When did you forgive me?”

 

She hears Clarke softly gasp. They’ve shared a lot of things with each other these past several weeks. Even going as far back as their life when they were children. But the mountain and the betrayal is something they can’t seem to talk about.

 

“Lexa...” she whispers as she drops her hands to her sides.

 

Lexa thinks she should just leave it alone. But having something as big as this being held over both of their heads needs to be discussed if they have any hope of moving forward with their lives properly. She takes the blonde’s hands with both of hers, “Clarke we need to talk about this at some point.”

 

“I know,” she replies a little bitterly and a little too fast.

 

“I know,” she repeats softly as she squeezes Lexa’s hands. “I understood. I understood all along. Because I would have done what you did, as you said. And I did. And I hated myself. And I wanted to hate you. But I knew it was irrational.”

 

Clarke places Lexa’s hands around her waist again and grasps the commander’s shoulders to resume their former position, “I can’t tell you an exact moment but it wasn’t long after I came here. When you saved me. I’m sorry if it seemed like I hated you. And that I was.... difficult. I think I was in denial... I think I probably loved you even then. And so much more now.”

 

Lexa can only smile back, slumping her shoulders in relief. She sighs happily and kisses Clarke softly, “Are we done with this game yet?” The wine is making her sleepy and she doesn’t want to sleep just yet, but she can think of several activities to do other than this.

 

“You haven’t chosen dare in a while though.”

 

Lexa rolls her eyes playfully, “Very well. Dare.”

 

She already got Lexa to take off her pants the first round. And Clarke thinks of asking her to strip off something else or asking her to do something funny or deviant since that’s kind of the point of the game.

 

But she opened up about something tonight. And she’s drunk and in love and so happy. But she’s also worried that there will come a point she won’t have this, if her track record of being happy on the ground is to go by.

 

And she knows it’s an irrational request, but she can’t stop herself if she tried, “Don’t leave,” Clarke whispers. She purses her lips as if taken aback by the confession herself.

 

Lexa raises her head slightly to look at her properly, not saying anything as she takes in her lover’s scrunched eyebrows and steady gaze.

 

“Is that your dare?” Not a hint of a smile on her face. She knows Clarke well enough now to recognize that this isn’t about the silly game anymore.

 

Clarke nods and grasps the other woman’s shoulders harder, not being able to say anything at that moment without tears threatening to fall.

 

Lexa is quiet as her eyes roam over the blonde’s features she’s come to memorize in the short time they’ve been together. The blue eyes that ranges from light to dark depending on how she’s feeling. The dip on her chin that juts out when she’s feeling bold. The lips that tighten unconsciously when she’s feeling displeased or vulnerable.

 

And Lexa also knows it’s irrational to promise such a thing, but she thinks she’ll do pretty much anything trying to keep it.

 

She grasps Clarke’s head gently as she kisses her fervently with all the feelings she knows she doesn’t have to keep to herself anymore and holds her close as she conveys her message wordlessly, knowing Clarke will know anyway.

 

_I love you_

 

_I love you_

 

_I love you_

 

And when Clarke whimpers in acknowledgement, Lexa pulls back only the tiniest of bit to whisper against her lips.

 

“Never.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Onya stares up at the sky and lets the breeze cool her down. It’s a beautiful night to do her favorite activity of people watching, perched up on a branch amongst one of the few trees surrounding the Polis tower. Her earlier encounter with the Heda and Clarke has left her in such good spirits that she decided tonight is a good night to take a break from keeping a watchful eye on the pair and possible adversaries.

  
  
As much as she tries to stay away from both the Heda and Clarke, it seems that destiny has other plans. She found that she unintentionally gravitates toward them, making it hard to stay undetected as they now know about her.

  
  
She’s been seeing more and more of them lately, with the commander watching her training when she’s in the area and even going as far as allowing her to train with the nightbloods when the opportunity arises. She’s smaller than most of them and they have been training more rigorously for longer, so it comes as no surprise that Onya ends up on her back more often than not, with a staff or a wooden sword pressed against her chest. But the Heda must have found something special in Onya, for she even had her most promising nightblood Aden do a daily sparring session with her, which she’s definitely thrilled about.

  
  
Even Clarke is everywhere these days. Coming in and out of the tower, they always seem to run into each other at the most unexpected times. Although no words are ever spoken, only simple nods and hellos, Onya feels Clarke watching her from afar with a look of barely concealed wonder. Tonight was the first time they actually addressed each other properly. And it went better than expected in her opinion. At least she didn’t stutter or run away this time.

  
  
The plaza is quiet as most of the people in Polis have retired to their homes. The few market vendors still open have started barricading their stalls, finally closing up for the day. Only a handful can be seen strolling around and braving the windy autumn night, so it isn’t hard to take notice of the man in dark clothes walking very fast and practically running toward the entrance of the tower. Onya shifts in her position, laying flat on the branch to get a better look at the man in a hurry.

  
  
Tren, she remembers. The warrior who was on the training grounds the other day when Onya outdid his second. She can only see his back from her angle, but if his gaze darting from side to side, as if looking for an escape route in the wide-open area were any indication, she would think this man is not exactly nervous, no. This big, burly man with markings covering almost every inch of his skin signifying the numerous battles he’s been in, is absolutely terrified.

  
  
Onya’s brows furrow in curiosity and she shifts once again, about to hop down from the tree and follow the man when she is interrupted by voices directly under her.

 

Voices she’s not familiar with.

 

“Well that’s a waste of a good warrior.” A woman says almost regrettably.

 

“Shof op. It’s your fault he ended up there in the first place. If you didn’t keep dangling a bone in front of his face, he wouldn’t have followed you.” A man this time.

 

The woman sighs exasperatedly, outwardly showing her annoyance. “Not my fault men are easily fooled.”

 

“Oh please, don’t act like it didn’t take any effort at all. You were practically...”

 

“Enough!” A third voice.

 

The two immediately comply. This voice though, she thinks she knows. Where has she heard it before?

 

“You know what to do,” he follows.

 

And then there were no more voices at all.

 

Until all Onya could see as she cranes her neck carefully are shadows of the strange man and woman walking very slowly toward the Polis tower. The sight is unnerving that she fights to keep herself from trembling and in turn shaking the branch she is currently poised on in case their third companion is still around.

 

For she’s never seen anything as ordinary, yet as frightening as two people walking calmly but sauntering with a purpose like that.

 

Like they’re stalking nothing but a poor prey.

 

* * *

 

  
It’s that time of the night when she’s naked and sated and her whole body vibrates with Clarke’s soft giggles against her neck.

 

“Lexa, stop it. You know that tickles,” Clarke says with a sleepy laugh. Burrowing her face further onto Lexa’s neck and not even attempting to remove her girlfriend’s stroking hand on her hip.

 

Lexa doesn’t stop though, not for another moment. And she chuckles at the next round of giggles from Clarke, feeling very amused with herself.

 

“I’m making it my life mission to find your ticklish spot. You have to have one. Everyone does. I absolutely refuse to believe you don’t.”

 

“You’ll spend an eternity trying to find it then because it doesn’t exist, Clarke.”

 

And Clarke starts prodding her stomach and arms, half heartedly trying to find the spot - chuckling at Lexa’s amused expression. Really, she’s just enjoying their shared silliness and the never ending laughter of tonight.

 

It’s her favorite thing Lexa decided - that uncontrollable laughter and the smile that doesn’t want to go away even when the generous serving of wine, and the strenuous activities that followed after, are dragging both of them to sleep.

 

Their hushed giggles are interrupted by a frantic knock on the door and they both sit up suddenly, craning their necks to listen to the rapid Trigadesleng being fired against the frame.

 

When the guard becomes quiet, both women look at each other. And Clarke isn’t proficient in the language but she thinks she knows.

 

“Did he say bodies? Dead?” she asks in a shaky voice.

 

Lexa nods and kisses her firmly, getting up and getting dressed quickly.

 

And the semi permanent smile she’s been wearing all night disappears, replaced by the Heda mask she knows she needs to wear now.

 

Because there it is.

 

The inevitable they were waiting for.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this before I left for my month long vacation but I didn’t get a chance to finish it. Good thing I had 20 hours on the plane to do so. Bad news is I had to use my phone so I’m not sure how polished it is because I couldn’t bring my laptop. 
> 
> BUT because I’m not working for a month, I’ll have plenty of time to lay on the beach and work on this some more. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and as always, thank you for reading.


	9. Nine

 

 

Onya caresses the back of her head, feeling the growing lump under the blood-soaked patch. She really should fetch a healer to change it. But she stays in place, standing frozen, in a crook of the hallway where it happened.

 

There are a few guards still milling about. The bodies are long gone now, but she still sees them clearly in her mind. Figures, so badly mangled, they barely looked recognizable at all.

 

The blood that coated the walls and splattered the floors had been cleaned up quickly, making it look like nothing happened there at all. But still, she can’t stop seeing. Can’t stop picturing anything her eyes were able to make contact with even when so many people were gathered around them, obscuring the grotesque view. A small part of an arm or a leg or a hand. And blood. So much blood.

 

And she feels an urge to cry but it’s almost like her body won’t let her. She feels something stirring in her chest but at the same time, nothing at all.

 

She’s been replaying the scenes for hours that she doesn’t even know if her memory is reliable anymore. Forcing herself to close her eyes, she goes back to the very beginning and slowly traces her steps once again, trying to find links and clues. Anything that could make sense of the horrific sight she witnessed.

 

For this isn’t just murder at all.

 

It’s a ringing message.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_She told herself she’d climb down the tree she has been perched on once she counted to five hundred. That became six hundred just to be sure. And then seven just to be really sure._

 

_She figured by that time, whoever the third person was should be off somewhere else._

 

_Once Onya quietly landed on the grass, she made sure to look around for any threatening looking figures._

 

_An elderly woman pushing a cart full of goods. A man that just closed up his shop for the day. And a group of hunters back late from a trip carrying a boar. So none, as far as she could tell._

 

_She wasn’t new to this game though, and she knew that looks could be deceiving. So instead of going straight and taking the quickest way to the entrance of the tower in the wide-open space, Onya opted to take her time and veered to the left, hopping from shadows provided by trees and buildings to take the side entrance._

 

_The side doors were vacant with no guards standing watch. In hindsight, Onya kicked herself for not thinking anything of it. At the time though, she was only irritated at herself for not having a weapon had she known she wouldn’t have been patted down for it. She figured she’d just have to fight with her fists if it had to come to that, which she really hoped it didn’t._

 

_The halls were eerily quiet. As expected, since mostly everyone had retired for the night. She didn’t know where the possible intruders would be, or Tren for that matter. So she knew she had to move quietly and rely on her senses. She could only hope that they would be on the ground floor. Otherwise, she wouldn’t find anyone for days scouring level after level of the commander’s palace._

 

_She moved along the halls, hiding in the near darkness and keeping her back against the wall._

 

_One hallway came to an end with no sight of anyone. And then another, and then another, until the girl didn’t exactly know where she was anymore. But she figured she must’ve been close to the kitchens as the air was all of a sudden hot and had a hint of rabbit stew she knew they were serving for dinner._

 

_On what she thought must’ve been the twentieth hall she had been ambling in in the maze-like tower, she heard the faintest exhale of breath coming from the next hallway to her right._

 

_Onya stopped on her tracks, hoping the sudden erratic beating of her heart couldn’t be heard outside of her chest, and willing her clammy hands to stop trembling. She took a deep breath, summoning any courage and wisdom her mentors have taught her._

‘Are you sneaking up on someone? Make sure to do it as soundlessly as you can without compromising your ability to attack.’

_She took of her boots along with her socks so as to keep quiet as possible but still have traction against the marble floor. She continued to creep quietly along the hall, one hand gliding along the wall while the other held her boots by the laces._

 

‘Do you have any weapons? No? Find one. If not, that’s what your body is for.’

 

_She looked around her and if she was correct in her assumption that she was close to the kitchens, then there were no loose wooden planks hidden on the walls that she knew of. Fist it is, Onya thought to herself wretchedly._

‘What’re you thinking about? Don’t. Think nothing but your opponent on the ground once you’re done with them.”

 

_Onya took another deep breath and closed her eyes as she attempted to clear her mind. But then…_

‘No, don’t think nothing.’ Another voice, ‘Think of why you’re doing it. Is it for good reasons? Is it for your people? Is it for love?’

 

_She remembered her mentor rolling her eyes at that, but grudgingly agreeing with a nod. Onya didn’t exactly know why she was where she was at that moment. She didn’t really know Tren but curiosity got the best of her. And she figured any threatening intruders looming around the tower may harm her commander and her people. Onya quietly sighed, for the coalition then, maybe._

_When she reached the end of the hall and another strained grunt reached her ears, she dared peek around the corner and what she saw nearly made her legs give out and mirror the man’s position several feet away from her._

_For Tren was on his knees with a dirty rag in his mouth and his eyes nearly beaten shut as two hooded figures cut into his body repeatedly without even so much as a grimace._

 

_Onya’s instincts kicked in just as another cut was made against Tren’s skin. She whirled her left shoe around by the laces and let go hard, watching it thump against one of the assailant’s face successfully, causing what she guessed was the woman to stagger back against the wall. Onya could only hope that the sound of the framed painting that fell on the floor noisily as a result would alert anyone nearby._

_She grinned triumphantly standing with her legs spread apart in the near darkness. And with no hesitation, the girl ran full speed toward the stunned figures, taking note of the knives in each of their hands, which if luck was on her side, her right shoe would hit with perfect aim. She didn’t know what she would do if she were to grab a hold of one. As expected from a young, inexperienced warrior, she didn’t really have a plan at all._

_She stretched her left arm, ready to rotate her weapon when she took notice of Tren opening his eyes as wide as he could and mumbling as loud as he was able. But before she could even look back, the girl felt her body slump to the floor as a bright white light exploded behind her eyes._

_She didn’t register the pain then, or the excessive amount of sticky liquid rapidly pooling around her head._

_She forced her quickly drooping eyes to open and take in her surroundings. Onya would soon forget the very little details of the assailants’ features she picked up on as she slowly lost consciousness. Their faces casted by shadows, their low quiet voices, and the distinct, yet ordinary sound she heard when what she assumed was the third companion strode by her form._

_Just as her vision darkened, the girl mumbled a faint apology as she saw the warrior collapse and right next to him, her favorite painting on the floor, destroyed and coated with blood._

 

* * *

 

 

 

They have always been at odds with each other.

 

From the very beginning, their clans had clashed, only forming a shaky alliance out of need. Even then, their ideals differed, whereas one relied on compassion, and the other built on merely surviving.

 

But it became quickly apparent that one cannot sustain without the other. That these principles on the opposite ends of the spectrum alone was never ideal, and that a balanced sprinkle of head and heart are exactly what humanity needs.

 

Clarke and Lexa now know this.

 

It took quite a while for them to get to where they are now. They both remember the times when they’d publicly challenge each other, as well as arguing behind closed doors when it came to their respective clans’ survival.

 

These disagreements were always about the good of everyone.

 

This one though, is something else entirely new.

 

And Clarke loves experiencing new things with Lexa. Looks forward to them everyday. But the heated hushed whispers in their room, because that’s what the commander’s quarters is now - isn’t one Clarke expected so soon.

 

Because they’ll always argue about the good of their people, which is one in the same now. But this isn’t just about everyone else anymore, is it? They’re supposed to consider each other, individually. That’s what lovers do.

 

Clarke knows fully well that they’ll never get to the point where they feel like they owe nothing more to their people, but she now also believes that they owe something to each other and to each other alone to some degree. They’re not just lovers after all; they’re partners.

 

Clarke inhales deeply, letting the now early morning air cool her body. Her hands touch the marble railing of the balcony situated at the opposite end of the hallway where the commander’s quarters lie. The room where Clarke has been staying, and where she left Lexa just now.

 

She closes her eyes as she lets her body relax. It wouldn’t do her good to be on edge, what with the challenging next few hours or days or longer that they’ll be facing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Lexa left in a haste after the guard delivered his message, leaving Clarke alone in the room where she sat frozen, not wanting to leave just yet. Not wanting to shatter the illusion of the utopia she had been living in._

 

_She knew she had to go though and she gradually and slowly prepared herself. First sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest. Then moving to sit at the edge of the bed where she stared out of the window that overlooked the city. Then getting up and pouring a glass of water for herself. Then putting her clothes on and lacing up her boots before she knew she couldn’t prolong it any longer._

 

_The smell of blood was wafting through the air, layering the walls of the hallway without her even seeing it yet._

 

_She knew this well enough by now. Had experienced it too many times within the past year of arriving on Earth. The scent so acrid, it enters your nose and travels to your mouth, leaving an iron taste that Clarke knew would still be there even after brushing her teeth so many times._

 

_The guards let her pass and she saw several people gathered around the bodies. She knew, even with people surrounding the area, that the painting Lexa so proudly hung up was now splattered and ruined with blood._

 

_Lexa was speaking to a warrior and Clarke moved a little bit closer just to get it over with and to take a peek of who the bodies belonged to, when she felt someone’s eyes on her._

 

_She immediately found the source and saw the same numb expression on her face that Clarke was sure she wore when she first witnessed death so closely. That glassy gaze that kept on wanting to look away but couldn’t help but keep staring anyway._

 

_Clarke ran toward her and turned her around to make her look the other way, even though she knew it was fruitless and the child had seen more than she should’ve._

 

_“Onya! What’re you doing here?” She leaned down and placed her palms on the girl’s cheeks forcing her to look at Clarke instead._

 

_When she finally came to it, Onya looked up with a pair of wet eyes and with a pout on her lips that reminded Clarke so much of Lexa when she first saw her cry._

 

_She sighed to herself as she pulled the girl toward her and embraced her loosely at first in case Onya didn’t like it. And when it didn’t feel awkward and Clarke felt Onya’s thin arms start to encircle her waist tightly, the blonde held her closer._

 

_As the girl buried her face on her stomach, Clarke could hear Onya breathing hard like she was trying to control it. Like she was trying not to let her tears fall. And Clarke tightened her arms around her even more, wanting to take whatever this girl saw and whatever grief she knew Onya must’ve been feeling at that moment._

 

_They must’ve been in that position for some time, for Clarke never even got the chance to see the bodies before they were taken away._

 

_“Clarke.”_

 

_She turned to look at Lexa but held onto the girl that still had her whole face hidden given their position._

 

_“Hey,” she says softly, “Are you okay?”_

 

_Lexa looked at her solemnly and moved her head as a quick nod. The commander looked at the girl in her arms and met her eyes again, “Onya here was attacked from behind when this happened,” she said quietly through gritted teeth, “We have vague descriptions of the assailants and I have warriors all around trying to find people that match them.”_

 

_Clarke felt Onya loosening her grip and the girl stood next to her instead. She still had her one arm wrapped around Clarke’s waist though, not ready to let go just yet. She looked up at Lexa, who regarded her with even more curiosity now._

 

_“Did you get your injuries checked?” Lexa asked._

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_“And you’re okay?”_

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_Lexa cleared her throat, “Good. Octavia’s on her way. You may stay in the tower.”_

 

_And then the commander did something Clarke had never seen her do that made her heart do funny things. Lexa got down on one knee and placed her hand gently on Onya’s cheek, “You were very brave tonight. Rest. You’ll be safe here, yongon,” she said softly to which the girl only nodded in reply._

 

_When the bodies had been cleared away and the hallway had been cleaned, and a long meeting had taken place, Clarke and Lexa quietly made their way back to their room. Clarke let out a breath of relief crossing the threshold, knowing she and Lexa didn’t have to appear as strong in their safe haven as they did out there in front of everyone else._

 

_Clarke didn’t know the bodies found tonight. Apparently, one was a warrior and the other worked in the kitchens and there weren’t any known connections between them. Four lifeless guards were also found in an empty room. Onya confirmed it was only the warrior she saw, and perhaps the other man was just an innocent bystander._

 

_No one really knew anything, and that in itself was worrying._

 

_Clarke picked up the radio to let Arkadia know as much information as they needed to. The coalition didn’t require anything from the Skaikru but her and Lexa decided that they should be aware so that they could also serve as eyes and ears if needed._

 

_Clarke winced a little when she heard Raven quietly ask Abby if she wanted to talk to Clarke, who she guessed shook her head no, as her friend kindly relayed that Abby in fact, was busy at the clinic. She briefly thought that it would’ve been nice to hear from her mother after the night that she had. The thought was fleeting though as she looked at Lexa, unmoving in her spot._

 

_“Are you okay?” she repeated her earlier question._

 

_Lexa was leaning over her desk, lost in her own thoughts._

 

_“Hey,” Clarke approached her slowly. She stood right next to her and touched her lower back, not wanting to startle but hoping to comfort her in any way, “Lexa, talk to me. Please.”_

 

_The commander looked at her then. The Heda mask slipping away as her gaze focused on her lover by her side. She gave a small nod and kissed the other woman softly as a reassurance._

 

_She turned away again. Clarke already knew what Lexa was going to say and she took a step back and braced herself._

 

_“I have to follow them, Clarke.” She knew the blonde wasn’t going to be pleased._

 

_“No, you don’t.” Clarke crossed her arms. And then uncrossed them again, leaving her arms awkwardly dangling on her sides._

 

_“Clarke...”_

 

_“Lexa, you have hundreds, no, thousands of warriors at your disposal. There’s barely any lead. All we know is that someone said they’re headed up north and who knows if that’s even true. Why not have others check to see if the trail is even real first?”_

 

_They were speaking in intense quiet whispers now. Knowing there were guards all across the hall after the incident._

 

_Lexa shook her head impatiently, offended that the blonde thought her a novice strategist. Because of course she had scouts pursuing any possible trails, and she’d been informed that one in particular is very much real. “I have to follow that lead myself. I..”_

 

_“No, you don’t!” Clarke repeated. “Your warriors are more than capable of following a trail. What if it’s a trap? What if someone’s out there, just waiting to kill you? What then?”_

 

_She was getting increasingly frustrated that Lexa wasn’t listening. And even more that she had to keep whispering when all she wanted to do was scream at her girlfriend for being totally unreasonable._

 

_“Clarke! Will you let me finish?” She waited until the blonde gave her a stubborn nod. Her eyes were fierce and her voice was hard and angry and commanding like the Lexa Clarke had first met, “They attacked my home, killing innocent people downstairs, harming a child, while I was up here, drinking wine and making love to you.”_

 

_Clarke’s eyes widened and she raised her head slightly in disbelief, “So, what? You think it’s our fault? Lexa, no one could’ve known...”_

 

_“I am Heda, Clarke!” And at that moment, with her tight jaw and her threatening snarl, she looked every bit like it. “I am Heda, and these people, whoever they are, felt bold enough to kill in the sacred tower. That’s a personal attack on me, a challenge to my rule. So yes, Clarke. I do have to go. I’ll be setting out after sunrise.”_

 

_They were quiet for a few moments as they regarded each other. And Clarke thought that it was kind of inconvenient sometimes that they could read each other so incredibly well that they knew what the other was going to say._

 

_“Okay, well I’m coming with...”_

 

_“And no, you’re not coming with me.”_

 

_They spoke at the same time, huffing in frustration with each other’s stubbornness._

 

_“Clarke, I need you to stay here.”_

 

_“Why? I can help..”_

 

_“You dare question your commander?” And Lexa regretted saying this, before the last word even left her mouth._

 

_Her eyes widened as Clarke took a literal step back from the combative words._

 

_Clarke exhaled loudly, looking at the floor, as if in total disbelief. She met Lexa’s eyes after a few moments, and there were so many things she wanted to say. But none of them could leave her mouth. She was honestly just so tired. And hurt. She was well and truly hurt._

 

_“No, Heda... I guess not,” she finally replied, quiet and yielding._

 

_Clarke turned around then, hurriedly walking out of the room and missing Lexa’s guilt-ridden expression and the way the commander opened and closed her mouth several times in an attempt to stop Clarke from leaving._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The room is stifling with tension as Clarke finally makes her way back. Lexa is sitting on the couch with maps and notes, and she immediately drops them from her hands to watch Clarke, who refuses to make eye contact.

 

The blonde slowly takes off her boots and clothes, leaving herself in her undergarments as she slips in between furs. She wants to be there when Lexa left. But she doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t exactly know how to act, considering they’ve never had to deal with this before.

 

They’ve never been openly and deeply in love with each other while navigating through politics on the ground. And they’ve never hurt each other with words alone after they confessed their feelings to each other very recently.

 

Costia never challenged Lexa the way Clarke does. Her former lover almost always agreed to what she decided without any protest. She was docile and pliant, and never spoke out of turn. Unlike Clarke, who is relentless, opinionated, and is never afraid to show it. Lexa knows she wouldn’t have Clarke any other way though. She loves her and all her fiery ways.

 

And Clarke had never really been in serious relationships before, only crushes and fleeting flings. Her most intense relationship was with Finn. And that was short lived. And only intense because the guy killed a damn village claiming it was for her. So this feeling of the first big fight, that’s not over something silly at all, in a relationship that she knows is the realest thing she’ll ever have, is all so very new.

 

So it’s no wonder that Clarke lays on her side quietly while the commander watches from the other end of the bed looking at the blonde’s back, eyes tracing the sharp lines from a feline’s scratch, equally clueless as to how to remedy the situation before she leaves in a few minutes. Lexa looks nothing at all like the commander at that moment though, fidgeting nervously, shifting from one foot to another while her hands twist the front of her shirt. 

 

She sighs loudly, gently sitting on the bed, “Clarke?” And she hears no response.

 

She moves a little closer, “Clarke, I’m sorry.”

 

Still no response, but she’s pretty sure Clarke is crying from the looks of her trembling back and Lexa’s heart breaks at the knowledge that she caused it. Lexa touches her shoulder and Clarke instinctively shrugs it off, and that breaks her even more. Her brows furrow and she drops her hand in the space between them dejectedly.

 

“Ai hod yu in, ai niron,” Lexa whispers and gets up slowly from the bed. Realizing she won’t get a response, she hastily picks up her weapons and heads for the door with a heavy heart.

 

Clarke gasps when she hears Lexa moving quickly. She’s still hurt but hearing Lexa say those words before she left for a possible battle, especially with a term of endearment she so very rarely uses stirred something in Clarke.

 

And before she knows it, she’s throwing off the furs from her body and walking very quickly to where Lexa is about to reach the door handle.

 

“Lexa, wait!”

 

She touches her arm then. And it’s so reminiscent of when Clarke first did that. Before the mountain. Before the TonDC bombing.

 

And she half expects Lexa to turn around and look back at her the same way she did back then. With a look so frightening that Clarke remembers dropping her hand from the commander’s arm as if scalded by the gaze alone.

 

But the way Lexa slowly turns her head and looks at her this time couldn’t be any more different. With her eyes soft and pleading, and her chest heaving with emotion. She looks heartbroken, and Clarke can’t help but pull her by the waist, because if she were to guess, Lexa is feeling exactly as she does at that moment. And the only thing that may help is being in each other’s arms, no matter how brief.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Clarke whispers against her neck, feeling Lexa sigh in relief as she grasps the blonde back fiercely.

 

“I’m sorry too,” She replies, kissing Clarke’s hair while holding her closer.

 

Clarke pulls back and they’re still holding onto each other, arms circled around each other’s waists, but she knows they don’t have much time. “I’ll stay here like you asked me to. But,” she holds up a finger when Lexa starts to grumble in protest.

 

“But, two days, Lexa. That’s what I’m giving you. If you’re not back by then, don’t be surprised if I just show up where you are by that time. Because if you’re not back in two days, I’m following you. And I don’t give a fuck if that’s defying my commander’s orders and I get punished for it.”

 

“Clarke...” She really should’ve expected this one.

 

“What, Lexa?” Clarke asks pleadingly, squeezing her lover’s waist softly, “Don’t tell me you’re doing this to protect me because I swear...”

 

“Is that so bad?” She interrupts, her voice soft and gaze earnest, “To want you in the tower with as many guards around you as possible? Is it so bad that I don’t want you out there with me because it isn’t safe?”

 

Lexa pauses and swallows audibly. Not wanting to scare Clarke away but thinking she wants to be as honest as possible, she takes a deep breath. Lexa’s hand reaches up to touch Clarke’s cheek, “Is it so bad that I want to protect the love of my life?”

 

Clarke leans on Lexa’s hand and closes her eyes for a moment. She simply just melts at the words, feeling her stomach erupt wildly.  _Love of my life? That’s a new one_.

 

Clarke doesn’t even have to think as her mind conjures a response instinctively she knows in her heart is the correct one. She moves her hands on Lexa’s lower back to get her even closer and softly declares, “Is it so bad that I want to do the same for mine?”

 

They hold each other’s gaze then, and slowly smile at the same time.

 

Clarke is proven wrong again. She still loves all new things with Lexa. And she’ll take all of it, fights and arguments and everything if the making up part feels as good as this.

 

“Five days,” Lexa counters after a few quiet moments.

 

“Two days,” Clarke repeats with an unwavering resolve.

 

“Four.”

 

“Three.”

 

Lexa briefly thinks of how a commander doesn’t negotiate. How the commander’s decision should never be up for discussion. But she’s not just the commander anymore after all, she’s also Clarke’s. And although being both is proving to be very challenging, she thinks she’s willing to compromise. 

 

The brunette drops her head, shaking it a little in disbelief, even with the smallest of smile still on her lips, “Okay, Clarke. Three days.”

 

Clarke grins triumphantly and kisses her soundly, “Three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a product of a 13 hour time difference jetlag. Thank you for reading :)


	10. Ten

Clarke unconsciously puts the end of the pencil in her mouth for must have been the sixtieth time within the last two hours. She bites gently but repeatedly, causing a satisfying crunching noise that echoes in the quiet room.

 

It’s a nervous habit she recently picked up in the last forty-eight hours. Well, thirty-nine hours to be exact.

 

It hasn’t even been two full days of Lexa being gone and she’s already on the verge of creating gaps in between her teeth if she continues her oblivious anxiety-riddled compulsion.

 

It also doesn’t help that Titus seems to have gotten bolder the moment Lexa stepped out of the tower, as he deliberately keeps Clarke from doing anything remotely useful. He even tried to keep her from attending a meeting with all the other ambassadors by giving her the wrong time of when it was supposed to start. But Clarke is much too clever thankfully, getting more and more accustomed to doing the exact opposite of what the flamekeeper says. She already can’t wait to tell Lexa about Titus’s comical way of standing frozen in the doorway for close to a minute in shock and embarrassment when he saw Clarke sitting in the throne room way before he himself even arrived.

 

“Clarke! Will you stop that?” Octavia nearly shouts from across the room.

 

“Whfat?” the blonde asked, voice muffled as she stills her hand.

 

“Your gnawing. It’s irritating. Not to mention, disgusting. Stop that,” she reprimands with her nose scrunched up and continues to sharpen her knife on the oversized leather couch in Clarke’s room.

 

Octavia and Onya have been keeping Clarke company, considering the girl is banned from the training grounds or doing anything physically exerting until her injuries have fully healed. She had already broken her word once, when just yesterday, her mentor found her at the edge of the city climbing the tallest tree as if she wasn’t almost killed the day before.

 

Octavia practically dragged her by the ear to Clarke, who wasn’t harsh like her first but effective nonetheless, with her pointedly disappointed expression toward the girl. Onya only looked to the floor remorsefully, quite literally looking like any other kid being caught stealing someone’s toy. The blonde actually didn’t even say anything, just led her to the couch where she changed the girl’s bandage quietly. It then became an unspoken routine that the three eat meals and spend any free time together in Clarke’s room.

 

And so here they sit after finishing up supper, doodling and sketching as Clarke counts down the hours to Lexa’s homecoming. And Onya hasn’t left her side since, seeming to want to prove to Clarke that she can follow instructions this time.

 

“Sorry,” Clarke sighs, dropping the pencil on the table, altogether giving up on her unfinished sketch.

 

“You too,” Octavia looks up and glares at Onya, who only stares questioningly at first until her mentor widens her eyes dramatically at the girl’s shaking left leg, “Stop that.”

 

Onya looks down at her leg and guiltily stops its movement, also dropping her pencil on the table where her and Clarke are currently attempting to wind down and draw. Apparently, it’s not working for either of them at the moment.

 

“See? You’re rubbing off on the poor kid,” the brunette points out to which Clarke mouths an apology to the girl.

 

“And I don’t know what you’re so worried about, Clarke,” Octavia says as she continues to focus on her task, “Lexa is… she’s…” she trails off momentarily, realizing she’s about to let Clarke know that she’s coming around to actually liking the commander, “I mean…You’ve seen her fight a grown man and won. Hell, we’ve literally seen her in action just several weeks ago when she fought off, like, four or five men all at once. And those men had _guns_. They didn’t even get to use them. She’s _that_ good.”

 

Clarke smirks as her heart swells with pride of how badass her girlfriend is.

 

“Come to think of it though, maybe they didn’t use their guns because they were distracted by her pretty face,” Octavia follows as she looks at Clarke, “Huh. Maybe that’s her secret weapon, and she’s actually just an okay warrior.”

 

“Uh huh,” Clarke smiles with a raised eyebrow, daring her friend to continue.

 

The brunette only smiles back reassuringly, “In all seriousness, Clarke. She’ll be fine. She’s the commander. And she didn’t just become the commander for nothing.”

 

“I know that,” the blonde sighs.

 

Clarke doesn’t doubt Lexa’s ability to defend herself. She’s seen it firsthand how capable and even exceptionally lethal her lover is on the battlefield. But she can’t help but be concerned. It’s the very fact that Lexa is the commander that worries her. And that there are killers on the loose, wreaking havoc and challenging the peace she has fought so hard for. Her mind can’t help but make up all kinds of scenarios of what could happen out there.

 

“I know,” Clarke repeats quietly, turning her head as she looks at her bed she hadn’t actually used in a while. It had been incredibly cold the night before when she slept in it alone that she snuck into the commander’s sleeping quarters in the middle of the night to steal some of the pillows from the empty room. She could barely sleep even when she laid on her side and hugged the oversized cushion, repeatedly reassuring herself that the commander is okay. The only way she finally dozed off was when she laid face down on the same pillow, enhancing Lexa’s scent she was breathing in.

 

“You miss her,” Onya says quietly, gaze softening in sympathy as Clarke meets her eyes. It wasn’t a question. Simply an innocent observation only a child can pose without seeming intrusive.

 

Clarke actually smiles a little at that. And she thinks of not answering or diverting the conversation altogether. Her and Lexa’s relationship is supposed to still be discreet after all. But she figures there’s no harm in responding to the girl who has probably figured it all out by now anyway.

 

“Yeah, I do,” the blonde says with a small smile.

 

Onya nods, waiting for her to continue should she want to.

 

“There’s this feeling of not being quite complete when you really miss someone. Like a fat man missing his cake,” Clarke jokes. She’s delighted to see Onya grin widely, “And like Titus misses his hair.”

 

And right then, there’s a flutter in Clarke’s chest at hearing the girl laugh loudly at that, throwing her head back easily, looking every bit her proper age by freely showing youthful merriment. Even Octavia looks up suddenly at the sound, joining the two in their laughter after a stunned second.

 

“Well I know what that’s like,” the brunette says wistfully after the laughter dies down, dramatically slumping back on the chair she is currently sitting on.

 

After a few seconds of no one responding, she glances at both Clarke and Onya, who are staring back at her blankly, “What?”

 

“Octavia, didn’t you say Lincoln’s on his way to Polis? Like, he’s literally probably only an hour away,” Clarke replies.

 

“So? I can’t miss him until then?” to which both her companions only chuckled, “Speaking of. I should go…get ready for when he gets here. And meet him at the gates. Um…” She looks at the girl and then at Clarke.

 

“Onya will stay here with me. If that’s okay?”

 

“Sure,” the girl only shrugs indifferently.

 

Octavia heaves a quiet sigh of relief, not wanting to have to explain to the girl that she probably wouldn’t want to sleep in the room Octavia’s staying in as there is a one hundred percent chance there will be adult reunion activities that will happen there.

 

“Night, Octavia,” Clarke smirks deviously.

 

“Reshop, Octavia,” Onya follows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s much quieter now that Octavia has left. But it’s not an awkward silence, Clarke notes, more like an easy calmness she only experiences with Lexa. And for the first time since Lexa left, Clarke feels some sort of tranquility, less anxious about what might be happening out there.

 

Curiosity now plagues Clarke’s mind though, replacing the apprehension she’s been feeling all night as she steals glances at the girl sitting across from her. For who was this girl that came out of nowhere, slowly stealing their hearts? Octavia told her she couldn’t get anything out of Onya when she inquires about her past, only a faraway look that makes the warrior a tiny bit uncomfortable.

 

Clarke figures she’ll try anyway, “Where are you from, Onya?” She keeps her head down, wanting to seem nonchalant.

 

“Just…. Just from around here,” the girl replies vaguely and Clarke is fondly reminded of Lexa’s ambiguous responses to her when they first met, when the commander was still guarded.

 

The blonde was very much intrigued with grounder culture and was thrilled to have someone to pester her curiosity with, the leader of the grounders no less. She remembers the way Lexa’s jaw would visibly tighten when she would break the silence in the commander’s tent during their spare time waiting before the attack on Mount Weather. And Lexa’s one-word replies. And the way the commander sighed in exasperation when Clarke would coax out a full sentence from her much to Clarke’s amusement, the blonde counting an excessive number of thirty-two sighs within a span of two hours one night. But that didn’t deter Clarke. This one wouldn’t either.

 

“So you’re from Polis?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

Clarke almost rolls her eyes at the obvious attempt in concealing the girl’s background.

 

“Are your parents still alive?” she tries again, voice softer now to match a touchy subject.

 

Onya’s drawing hand stills as she finally meets Clarke’s eyes, “Yes, I think so.” She looks away again and almost whispers, “I hope so.”

 

Clarke’s eyes soften as she observes that faraway look Octavia mentioned. Except it doesn’t make her feel uncomfortable, only sad and guilty for bringing it up in the first place. And that was the end of that. She figures if Onya wants to talk about it, she will in time. She’s still curious of course, but she decides to change the subject anyway.

 

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Clarke can’t help but ask as she looks up from her finally finished drawing and takes in the girl’s disheveled curly hair fanning out on the sides.

 

Onya smirks at that, a look of registering familiarity crossing her expression. “I don’t recall,” she replies, tongue peeking out in concentration as she erases a misaligned shape on the paper.

 

Clarke stands up and grabs a hairbrush from the dresser, deciding to take it upon her to tame the girl’s wild locks. She expects some kind of protest, or perhaps a startled reaction when the blonde gently starts brushing. But Onya doesn’t respond as such, simply continuing her focus on her art. It seems that it’s not that unusual for someone to do such a thing for her. That, or the girl is finally warming up to Clarke. Either way, the blonde is relieved it doesn’t cause an adverse response, happy to be taking care of someone at that moment. Anything to distract herself.

 

“You’re left handed too?” Clarke absentmindedly asks as she peers over the girl’s shoulder. The question is quickly forgotten though as her eyes land on the drawing, a familiar looking scenery put on display for her. “Where is that?”

 

Clarke tugs harder than she means to at a stubborn knot, eyes still locked on the impressive landscape on paper. She imagines the colors that would’ve been there had it not been drawn by pencil, as artists tend to do. The leaves falling from the trees would have been in various hues of red and amber as they are during autumn. The jewel blue stream of water at the focal point would have been flickering like glitter against the rising sun.

 

But what Clarke focuses on as she completely stops the movement of her hands is the tall imposing tree, serving as part of the backdrop, meant to be disregarded by untrained eyes, that she just knows would have been green and full even with the near-bare trees around it. That if she squints her eyes, just as she did when she was standing in front of it, she would have seen an outline of a treehouse that withstood the harshest of storms.

 

“Where is that?” Clarke repeats, not knowing how to restrain the almost disconcerting curiosity bubbling within her.

 

Onya’s eyes stay straight ahead, twirling her pencil in uneasiness as she takes a deep breath. “It’s near TonDC,” she whispers.

 

“You’ve been there?”

 

She’s met with silence.

 

“Who took you there?” Clarke asks as she sits back down on the chair facing the girl, who still refuses to make eye contact.

 

“I was walking to get to TonDC…and… and I saw it then.”

 

“Oh,” the blonde says, not knowing how else to respond to such an unusual coincidence. She supposes anyone could use the same path she and Lexa used around the villages.

 

“Take me with you,” Onya says as she looks up at Clarke.

 

The blonde furrows her eyebrows in confusion at the abrupt change in subject, “Where?”

 

“I know you’re going to follow Heda. Take me with you,” voice steady but imploring. 

 

“Onya…”

 

“ _Please_ ,” the girl whines, the first time Clarke has ever seen her in near-distress that the blonde raises her head minutely in surprise.

 

She takes a deep breath and reaches out to touch Onya’s hand across the table. “Look, the commander will be back soon. No need to follow her. She’s fine,” Clarke tries to reassure the girl and herself. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late. I’ll take the couch.”

 

“Okay,” Onya sighs. She picks up a book on the shelf to take with her, the blonde’s eyes following her movement. “This one’s my favorite,” she smiles eagerly and holds it up for Clarke to see, _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone._

 

Clarke smiles back and doesn’t point out that Lexa had given her that book only recently.

 

And that it’s the only copy that survived the nuclear bombs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Heda, I think it may be wise to camp for the night,” a young warrior says in a low voice, hesitant to suggest that the commander insisting they keep moving is anything but wise.

 

Lexa switches the hand holding her reins to her right and looks up at the sky. Thick clouds are obscuring the moon and stars, making it harder to see in the dark. The dense woodlands and uneven ground make it even harder to trek the forest, leaving them with no choice but to walk alongside their horses for hours now. Lexa can hear their heavy breathing, can feel their exhaustion.

 

But the commander is persistent, not wanting to spend another minute resting or sleeping. Not when there are assassins hours or days ahead of them. Not when they’re possibly heading to their leader to plot more slaughters. Not when every minute she’s gone and hasn’t contained a single killer leads to Clarke one step closer to following her. And Lexa knows that only means Clarke will be following danger. She just can’t have that.

 

“A little more ways, Akin,” she replies to the warrior after a long moment of silence.

 

“Sha, Heda.”

 

She hears movement to her right and sighs impatiently, already knowing who it is and what she’ll have to say, “Indra, I said just a little bit longer.”

 

“Sha, Heda,” the general replies, and Lexa isn’t at all surprised that that wasn’t the end of the conversation, “It’s just that... Commander, this is a rough trail for us and the horses. And I’m afraid that we’re making too much noise and attracting unwanted attention if we keep going.”

 

Lexa momentarily wishes she didn’t summon one of her best generals to accompany her on the search, considering she’s one of the only ones bold enough to call her out on her recklessness. But she needed someone she trusts the most other than Clarke to be by her side, especially for this reason. Because she knows that Indra’s right. Of course, she knows. But her mind has been racing and her judgement is perhaps a little bit hazy, what with the unknown enemies roaming her lands.

 

When she first heard about the killings, the first person that came to mind was Ontari. That, she could have easily handled she thought, and she was hopeful she could end this quickly. But that hope lessened as she received assurance from King Roan that it wasn’t the Azgeda and that he had eyes on the hostile nightblood and anyone else that were loyal to the former queen. And that hope dwindled down even more rapidly as her scouts confirmed the king’s word. So who are these killers daring to ruin the newfound peace they’ve come to experience for such a short time?

 

It’s unsettling to have enemies that don’t leave a single indication of what they’re really after. And frankly, besides the unsettling feeling, Lexa is just annoyed. No matter what she does as a commander, and no matter what they have accomplished in the last years, someone is always going to find fault with something. She’s been asking herself the same question ever since she ascended, and it rings even louder now, _what’s so wrong about peace?_

 

Lexa sighs to herself irritably. “Very well, let’s make camp for the night,” the commander concedes, not missing the nearly inaudible sigh of relief from the small group accompanying her.

 

Besides the few scouts ahead of them, Lexa insisted on only bringing a small group of eight warriors with her, much to Indra’s protest. But she wanted to be able to move more quickly and get back to Polis sooner. And perhaps, with the new _blood must not have blood_ initiative she’s still trying to implement despite the necessary break with the short lived Skaikru rebellion, she just wants to be less imposing. She doesn’t want a big battle or a long drawn out war. She doesn’t want a war at all.

 

Of course, Lexa’s not so foolish leaving herself that vulnerable though. There are five other small groups heading in the same direction using different paths to confuse the enemy should somebody be watching them. Indra even cleverly placed Heda decoys in each if such is the case.

 

“I’ll take the first watch,” Indra says as they look around the group, some warriors eating and some already laying out their bedrolls.

 

“I’ll stay with you,” Lexa immediately replies.

 

The camp is quiet and dark, the group opting to forgo a campfire in a hostile territory.

 

Lexa sits against a tree, her sore back cracking as she stretches on the rough bark, sword in one hand, knife on the other. Only the moonlight peeking out of the clouds every now and then illuminates them now, and her mind continues its earlier racing as she thinks of what could possibly be waiting for them.

 

She hears Indra shift next to her, holding out a waterskin, “Heda, what do we really know about these assassins?”

 

She shakes her head at the offer and sighs, “Nothing. They killed innocent people and now they’re heading up here. We don’t know what clan they’re from or what their motive is, if they even have one. Just that they’re ruthless and daring enough to commit murder in my very home.”

 

“Then why not send warriors on your behalf to capture these natronas? You shouldn’t be out here risking your life like this.”

 

Lexa smirks for a moment at the familiar words, remembering when Clarke asked her the same thing. “Do you think me weak, Indra?” She shakes her head at Indra’s sound of protest.

 

She twirls the knife in her hand, “I hear whispers of it. Despite the thriving state of the coalition, plenty of food, no conflict, no wars, no sickness, there’s still an underlying insinuation that the Heda is weak. Do you know why that is?”

 

“ _To be commander is to be alone_ ,” Indra says somberly, reciting a century old saying they’ve been taught to believe in. _“Love is weakness.”_

 

Lexa chuckles wryly, devoid of real humor. “And that’s why I’m here. To show them I’m anything but.”

 

Indra’s face glows with pride as she’s reminded of why Lexa is the commander in the first place, and she almost chokes in emotion at this young Heda doing everything in her power to keep the coalition together. “Heda, you know I will follow you wherever you go. Whatever you need, I’m at your service. In time, they’ll know. _You’re_ the coalition.”

 

She nods gratefully at the general. “You know Clarke said the same thing? How I should have let my warriors capture these killers.”

 

Indra is quiet for a moment. “Well, maybe the skai girl isn’t as hopeless as I thought she was.”

 

Lexa smiles at that, “She’s not hopeless at all,” a warm feeling exploding in her chest at the thought of the blonde.

 

“Sleep, Heda. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

 

The commander leans her head back as comfortably as she can against the tree, eyes closing for what seems like the first time in days. Lexa hasn’t slept without Clarke in a long time, and she briefly wishes she let her lover come with her. She relaxes her body as much as she can in her uncomfortable position and lets her mind drift to the only place she longs to be at.

 

_It was the first time Clarke snuck into the commander’s room without Lexa there. The brunette had spent the day visiting a nearby village and thanking the leader and its people personally for providing food for the recent celebration in Polis. It was late and Lexa was looking forward to finally sleeping after a tiring day. She stopped in front of Clarke’s room and wondered for a moment if she should knock and see if she was still awake to see her even for just a second. She decided against it though when she peeked under the crack of the door and all she saw was darkness._

_Lexa entered her room and immediately reached for the knife on her leg, upon finding a breathing lump of someone under the furs. She approached slowly, looking around to see if there are others in hiding. She threw the blanket off quickly, hand still clutching the knife when Clarke’s eyes shot open in surprise._

_“Lexa! What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” the blonde exclaimed loudly, sitting up and backing up on the headboard. She eyed the knife still in Lexa’s hand, “Um…sorry? I just wanted to see you when you came back. You don’t have to stab me.”_

_“Oh,” Lexa smiled widely and put the knife away, “I apologize for startling you Clarke, I just didn’t expect anyone to be here.”_

_“Oh. Umm,” Clarke looked around uncomfortably. They were still kind of new to this thing after all. “Did you want me to leave?”_

_“Of course not,” Lexa furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, taking in Clarke’s outfit and smiling at the way the blonde made herself at home wearing one Lexa’s baggy shirts with no pants on. “Stay, please,” she said while taking off her clothes, leaving herself in her undergarments._

_Clarke smiled and patted the space next to her. But the commander had something else in mind, pulling the blonde’s legs swiftly so that she was once again, laid flat on her back._

_Clarke’s mouth quickly dried up as Lexa seductively crawled on top of her, the brunette immediately kissing her as she rested her whole body against Clarke’s. She pulled back only to kiss Clarke’s neck and let her head fall against the blonde’s shoulder._

_“I missed you,” Lexa sleepily murmured on her skin._

_“I can tell,” Clarke chuckled as she brought her hands up to caress the commander’s back, earning her an appreciative hum._

_“I was thinking about you all day,” she continued. “I kept wishing you were there. We wouldn’t have to speak. Or touch. Or anything really. I just…just wished you were there.”_

_“Commander, you’re being cute tonight. Are you drunk?”_

_“A little…but you know what they say,” Lexa kissed her neck again._

_“A drunk mind speaks a sober heart?”_

_“No, but that’s a good saying. I like that. I was going to say, absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she held herself up on her elbow and kissed Clarke on the lips this time. “But my heart’s already so fond of you.”_

_Clarke laughed loudly, secretly enjoying Lexa’s mushiness, “Yeah babe, you’re more than a little drunk.”_

_“I’m not a babe,” the commander pouted._

_“Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You’re a babe,” Clarke joked but pulled Lexa in for another kiss, she missed her just as much after all._

_“I don’t know what that means but okay,” Lexa breathed out in between kisses, tugging at Clarke’s shirt that the blonde was all too happy to take off._

_Lexa excitedly flung the offensive clothing on the side, striking and knocking over a lantern on the night stand. The glass shattered loudly on the floor, startling both women._

_“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Fire! Lexa, fire!” Clarke shouted as she leaned over and saw the flames engulfing her shirt and the wooden floor, pouring a glass of water uselessly over it in panic._

_Despite her drunken state, the commander was quick in her reaction as she threw thick furs down and repeatedly stomped out the already dying blaze._

_Lexa sat down next to Clarke at the edge of the bed quietly, momentarily stunned at the quick turn of events. And then Clarke put her arms around her, chin resting on her shoulder and started laughing, lightly at first. And when Lexa looked back at her like she just lost her mind, she laughed even harder. Lexa had no choice but to join in. And so they sat there, in front of Lexa’s ruined, still smoking furs, just giggling uncontrollably._

_Lexa pushed Clarke back on the bed to resume their former position. She kissed every part of the blonde’s face, letting the warmth in her chest glow just by being in Clarke’s presence. “You’re crazy,” she smiled._

_“I know. You are too,” she grinned back._

_“Fire!”_

 

_“No, I already put it out. Go back to sleep, ai hodnes.”_

“Fire! Heda, Fire!”

 

Lexa opens her eyes, expecting to wake up to Clarke thrashing in her sleep, arm already reaching out so she could comfort her.

 

But the moment she does, she’s met with her camp burning brightly, much too brightly, with flames licking at every surface it could. She looks to her left in panic, finding Indra with a knife already held against the general’s throat.

 

“Don’t move, Heda,” a familiar voice says.

 

The commander looks around and counts nine, no fifteen… seventeen or more surrounding them. Lexa almost wants to laugh.

 

She is, as Clarke would put it if she were here, royally fucked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke wakes up with a sudden jolt and a feeling of terror in the middle of the night, whole body covered in sweat even with the wide-open windows letting the cool autumn breeze in.

 

She quickly but quietly dresses, grabbing her weapons in the nearly dark room, wincing at the clanging noise she makes as she positions her scabbard hurriedly around her waist. Clarke looks at the girl on her bed still peacefully slumbering, thankful that Onya seems to be a heavy sleeper.

 

Call it lover’s intuition, but something just doesn’t sit right with her. And she knows she has to leave to find Lexa. Now.

_Fuck the three days_ , she thinks to herself.

 

She pulls the furs around Onya’s frame more tightly and tucks a stubborn curl behind her ear, silently apologizing for leaving in such a haste.

 

The moment the door clicks closed though, the girl opens her eyes and stands up, boots already on. She readily grabs a sword and a knife from the commander’s armory and slides a small pouch across her body.

 

She checks her pouch for its intended contents and holds up the sword, perfect size for her small frame, swishing it around, and nodding at the satisfying whistling sound it makes.

 

Because of course, she knew Clarke would go. And she will be right there with her.

 

Unlike last time though, she will come prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Eleven

Onya huffs in exhaustion as she leans on a tree, her right hand held out to feed the horse she had been walking alongside with for some time now.

 

She got off a little bit ago so as not to startle Clarke when she catches up to her. But she has seen no sign of the blonde anywhere. She’s fairly sure this is the path Clarke would have taken though, and even if it wasn’t exactly the same one, Onya knows the roads weave in and out of one another, making it so that anyone traveling out of Polis would eventually encounter each other.

 

The girl gave Clarke only a twenty-minute head start before she headed out herself, making sure she’ll be able to follow the blonde in semi close proximity but still far away enough to remain undetected. She wanted to make sure that she doesn’t accidentally reveal herself until they’re far from Polis so Clarke wouldn’t send her back by herself and wouldn’t have a choice but to let Onya travel with her.

 

She must have been riding for a couple of hours now though and definitely should have seen her already. The dense forest under the cloudy night makes it difficult to see well but she should have at least sensed someone by now. The girl brushes her hands on her pants uneasily, deciding to keep following her chosen path even with her increasingly growing concern.

 

The fact that she hasn’t seen a single blonde strand of hair anywhere is starting to make her anxious.

 

“Where are _you_?” Onya whispers in the dead of the night, rubbing her arms when the cold wind picks up at that moment, as if ominously responding to the her question.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke had a plan.

 

One: gather an army. Two: go to wherever the hell Lexa is. Three: save the commander if she’s indeed in need of saving.

 

It wasn’t a well thought out plan, no. But it was the best she was able to come up with in the short time that she’s been awake and encountered someone in the tower.

 

She didn’t expect for it to happen so fast though. For not even five minutes after she tip-toed out of her room in the nearly pitch black hallway, Clarke quite literally ran into her least favorite person in the world. The blonde nearly screamed and staggered back at the unexpected human barrier. It was as if Titus was creepily lurking in the shadows in the middle of the night waiting for Clarke to show up. It was such a Titus thing to do, Clarke thought, sneaking around like a fucking psycho. It was a weird feeling to her; being terrified and annoyed at the same time. Hair on her arm standing up straight while rolling her eyes impatiently.

She also did not expect, although she kind of really did, for the flamekeeper to dismiss her hunch about the commander and for him to immediately reject her idea of raising an army to go follow Lexa.

 

She also definitely did not anticipate, although again, in hindsight she should have, for Titus to somehow lock her up in a room like a damn prisoner, _for your own safety_ , he said.

 

For after Clarke spent minutes practically begging the flamekeeper to listen to her, even going as far as falsely promising to never be the cause of his headaches ever again, the disapproving man asked the blonde to follow him, to which she thoughtlessly complied as she continued to plead her case. The next thing she knew, the visibly uncomfortable sentries were closing the doors quickly, Titus dramatically standing in the median forebodingly.

 

_Fucking asshole_ , Clarke thinks. “You fucking asshole,” she mutters. “Asshole!” she yells louder this time.

 

It’s probably only been ten minutes, and her hands are aching and her throat is burning from banging on the surface repeatedly and shouting for someone to open the damn doors. She even tried to break the lock open with a knife, but dismally gave up, sliding down against the massive frame and slumping against it.

 

The door is a no go. There is little to no chance of anyone hearing her on the deserted floor. If they did, they probably would have come by now. The window would’ve been a good way out. If it isn’t at least forty stories up and if she had a death wish. So how in the hell is she going to get to Lexa?

 

Clarke hugs her knees to her chest, chewing her lip in between her teeth unnervingly. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she thinks of how hopeless her current situation is. And then she thinks of what Lexa might be going through, and her chest suddenly feels like it’s caving in, as if someone set a ton of concrete on it.

 

She feels utterly useless. She thinks of the many times on the ground that she’s been put in life or death situations that she somehow clawed her way out of. All those other times, she had practical, if not impressive plans, some semblance of control. But this time feels nothing like those times. The way Clarke is feeling at that moment is so painfully familiar, something she never wanted to feel again. She closes her eyes and lets herself remember her father, and how she helplessly watched him plunge into his death.

 

And with that same feeling of hopelessness as she thinks of Lexa, Clarke feels a lone tear slide down her cheek. She takes a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of tears, but stops mid exhale, raising her head quickly in the same beat.

 

Movement, she thinks. She presses her ear against the door and gasps in disbelief. It’s definitely movement. She presses on more firmly, both palms on the wooden surface, making out what seems to be a fight or a struggle on the other side. Standing up quickly, the blonde draws her sword and backs away as she hears what she thinks might have been multiple grunts and maybe bodies falling to the floor.

 

She catches hushed whispers. And Clarke dares not feel optimistic until she sees the person. Several loud thumps later, the door finally opens, and the very little light coming from the hallway creates a halo-like shade on who Clarke thinks might literally be her savior.

 

“Clarke! What the _fuck_ is happening?” Octavia whispers as the blonde throws herself onto her in a crushing embrace. “Lincoln said he saw Titus coming from this way,” she says with her voice muffled as the blonde still refuses to loosen her hold.

 

Clarke sees Lincoln behind her, bodies at his feet, still looking around for possible guards that will definitely be coming any time now.

 

She pulls away after a few more seconds, she knows they don’t have much time. “Long story short, I needed an army to get to Lexa, and Titus is a dick as usual.”

 

“Wait, why?”

 

“Why is he a dick? I don’t know, maybe because he doesn’t have one and,” she trails off as the brunette glares and shakes her head impatiently. _Right, no time for jokes. Focus, Griffin_. “I just have this feeling, Octavia. I know it sounds crazy, but I think she may be in trouble,” she pleads.

 

“Feeling? What does that even _mean_?” Octavia asks incredulously, voice just above a whisper.

 

Clarke sighs and she knows it sounds foolish, but she keeps her head up and wills her voice not to waver, “It’s just… this feeling,” she repeats. “I can’t explain it but it’s there. And if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong, but I just need to see that for myself. Please, trust me on this.”

 

Octavia is quiet for a moment, looking down as her eyes sweep the floor in deep thought. And Clarke thinks she may have to try to fight her friend if she attempts to stop her too. “Okay,” the brunette finally breathes out.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Let’s go,” Octavia sighs as she turns to look at Lincoln who only nods, “If you think she’s in trouble and Titus won’t let any warriors go with you, then we’ll go.”

 

Clarke smiles gratefully but frowns not even a moment after, “Wait, Onya’s here. She’ll be by herself.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Lincoln says, “I think I know where Heda is headed. Indra may have slipped on their general direction. But we have to go now.” He looks around the hallway again, eyes darting tensely. He effortlessly throws a sentry’s body over his shoulder, whispering a quick apology and a “goodnight for now.”

 

“Oh man, if I let you out of my sight and something happens to you, I am so dead. Lexa would kill me,” Octavia exhales. “But fine, I’ll stay with Onya.”

 

Clarke starts walking but stops in her tracks to look back at her friend, “Well if something happens to Onya, you _are_ dead. And _I’d_ kill you.”

 

The brunette only scoffs, “Yeah yeah, less talking and more walking.”

 

When Clarke and Lincoln disappear around the corner, Octavia immediately heads to Clarke’s room where she knows Onya will be sleeping.

 

Except she isn’t.

 

She moves quickly and checks every nook and cranny in the small room. In the bathroom.  Behind the armoire. Behind the couch. Under the couch. Under the table. Under the bed. Even going as far as flipping the mattress over, as if the child would somehow end up in between the frame and cushion.

 

The girl is nowhere to be found. 

 

When the room is visibly in shambles, Octavia wipes her forehead with the back of her hand and proceeds to sit on the floor with her legs stretched out and shoulders hunched in resignation.

 

“Oh, I am so dead,” she utters to herself, a sense of dread filling her, “I am so fucking dead.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

No warrior would say they envy her position at that moment. The scene before Lexa’s eyes looks like a situation simply destined for failure.

 

The few men the commander has with her are fighting bravely but are clearly overwhelmed by the number of rogue assassins, who she quickly notes have different marks signifying the multiple clans they’re from, willingly uniting for once to witness her downfall. She scans her eyes quickly, back still against the tree, as she sees her men unceremoniously slump to the ground one by one. Some are already missing limbs, still fighting for their commander despite the painful grimace on their faces. Some have flames igniting their bodies as they swing their weapons with all their might.

 

No warrior would believe they can get out of this one alive. They’d fight until their dying breath, of course. But they know a futile situation when they see one.

 

But Lexa is not just any warrior. She is _Heda_.

 

And with every drop of blood she sees, her chest heaves with fury, and the red within her intensifies. And for the first time in a long time, she absorbs it, welcomes it, lets it consume her that she thinks the black blood running through her veins might very well be red too.

 

Lexa briefly looks to her left and sees Indra give the smallest of nods, bravely pressing against the knife still held against her throat. She knows her commander well enough to know what Lexa needs at that moment.

 

And when the assassin gasps and shows even the slightest surprise at the skin she just tore, blade seeping with red liquid, Lexa, without a moment of hesitation reaches up and slices her wrist. The commander stands up in the same beat and buries her knife to another warrior’s face sneaking up on her right side, taking him by surprise as well. She knows Indra is more than capable of handling the woman, and she gladly lets her general take care of the one that foolishly held her at knifepoint.

 

She easily retrieves her knife and throws it another one, hitting the man straight in the chest. She scans her eyes for others before the body even hit the ground. With her right hand free now, the commander takes out her other sword from her back, quickly and fearlessly walking toward a sea of unsuspecting assassins engaged in pillaging her camp.

 

The first ones are easy. Lexa thrusts and slashes and hacks at anyone that dare come near. The flames engulfing her surrounding, only intensifies the pure rage within her. Her whole body is drenched. Sweat and blood and whatever else, she doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. With each grunt that leaves her mouth, her face is splattered with more blood.

 

Until all she sees is red. And all she thinks is kill.

 

And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss this.

 

More men are coming her way now. They encircle her like a pack of ravaging wolves, and she, nothing but a hapless sheep. Their expressions differ, from eagerness to be fighting the commander, even in a cowardly way, to sheer terror, as if they have no idea how they ended up there.

 

Still, they daringly come forward with their weapons drawn, waiting for their chance. And the commander doesn’t disappoint. With both of her swords still in her hands clasped firmly, dried blood assisting in tightening her grip, Lexa lunges and swings her weapons impressively, slaying anyone within her arm’s reach.

 

She doesn’t notice the pain throbbing from her battered body. Or the excessive pounding in her chest with each gasping breath. Or blood, black as night, steadily flowing out of her tattered clothing.

 

She doesn’t notice until her opponents theatrically lay at her feet, most lifeless, some very close to perishing. She dares not let go of her weapons just yet though, even as she hunches, relaxing her body the tiniest bit as her body finally registers its injuries. And in her fatigued state, Lexa mechanically walks around and uses one  of her swords to slit their throats and relieve them of their suffering.

 

She stands over one of the last ones around her, a man, as old as Lexa’s father would have been, face covered in blue marks. And this one awakens Lexa from her catatonic-like state. For his body twitches uncontrollably, blood trickling down the side of his mouth, soul palpably ready to surrender. Lexa stops with her sword mid-air as she meets his eyes. For those eyes are very much alive, as if they patiently waited their turn to stare into hers.

 

Lexa waits as the man visibly struggles to speak, eyes still locked on increasingly curious green ones.

 

And then he laughs, as much as a dying person could, choking and coughing and eyes bulging.

 

“To hell with the coalition,” he rasps, crooked smile still on his face, “She’ll be the end of you. You are no Heda of mine. You are we...”

 

She’s heard enough. The commander plunges her sword, baring her teeth in abhorrence as she twists the blade inside his chest, causing the man to weep in pain.

 

“There she is!” a woman behind her exclaims, hands clapping in a mocking applause. “There’s the Heda we want. How does it feel to get your power back?”

 

Lexa turns to the sound, at the assassin with her wrist now bandaged shoddily by a dirty rag. She looks behind the woman and sees Indra, face down on the ground. Lexa is relieved that her general is still breathing. Barely, but she thinks it’s there.

 

“How does it feel to be consumed by bloodthirst?” she continues.

 

Lexa focuses back on the woman, and the few left standing around her with their weapons drawn. “What do you want?” she asks through gritted teeth.

 

“We just want our Heda back.”

 

That still doesn’t answer her question. She shakes her head impatiently, “What do you _want_?” she repeats.

 

“You’re so eager, you didn’t let me finish,” the woman says, “And we wipe out Skaikru once and for all.” She pauses and sneers, “Or you die and we’ll replace you with one who will. It’s an easy choice really.”

 

The commander takes a step forward, eager to end this fallacy and for the infuriating woman to finally stop talking. The men around her do the same.

 

“Uh uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

That still doesn’t stop the commander as she nears the group with her jaw tightened in infuriation and a newly determined focus. _Cut off her hand completely or slit her throat first_ , she can’t decide.

 

“You know Clarke’s been following you?” the woman drones nonchalantly.

 

And that finally stops her movements, right leg one step further than the left. _No, she couldn’t have yet_ , Lexa thinks.

 

“Surely, you know. Because _we_ know. She doesn’t have the lightest footing.”

 

“You’re lying,” Lexa says, her voice steady but her heart anything but. _Three days, she said_.

The woman toys with a pendant around her neck and Lexa’s widened eyes at the sight finally betray her.

 

Clarke hasn’t taken that off ever since she first received it. Not inside the tower when dealing with regular ambassador duties. Not outside the tower when training or visiting the healing centers. Not even in bed. And only not in the bath when Lexa has to physically take it off, and that’s not without some kind of struggle.

 

She loves that thing.

 

 

_“I love it!” Clarke exclaimed. She looked around the throne room and noticed the lingering ambassadors that were now staring at them curiously. The blonde dropped her gaze and tried to keep an impassive expression as she held the necklace tightly in her palm, lowering her arm so it rested against the side of her thigh. “I love it,” she whispered this time._

_The commander moved a few feet away, pretending to be engrossed on some notes and maps from the meeting. She couldn’t wait to give Clarke her gift and she now regretted doing so in a room full of people._

_Not only because of how it would look like if it was perceived that the Skaikru ambassador was getting special treatment from the commander. But mainly because Lexa enjoyed witnessing Clarke’s happiness, and even more when she was the cause of it. She lived for those moments. And doing such a thing in a public setting with loitering onlookers forced the blonde to restrain that excitement when she imagined Clarke would be showering her with kisses if she gave it to her in private instead._

_Still, Lexa forced her smile down, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the blank Heda mask on. She felt the other woman move closer, and gods did she want to reach out and put her arm around her waist and keep it there._

_Clarke stood next to her and focused on the notes in the commander’s hands. “So, these are the new trade routes for the upcoming winter?” she asked, not loudly, but audible enough for any eavesdroppers._

_“Sha, ambassador. Just like what we talked about in the meeting,” the commander replied monotonously._

_“Sass,” the blonde hissed, “Just trying to keep it cool over here.”_

_Lexa hummed in reply, clearly amused but refusing to disrupt her trademark façade._

_Clarke simply ignored her and pointed at an insignificant part of the map that made Lexa furrow her eyebrows in confusion as to why she would be pointing at a land of dirt. “What’s it for?” she whispered._

_“The dirt?”_

_“What? No, you dork. The necklace.”_

_“Oh,” the commander blushed slightly, and that’s something she couldn’t hide if she tried. She too also pointed at an insignificant part of the map. “You mentioned the other day about your birth-date,” she muttered timidly._

_“Lexa, my birth_ day _isn’t for a few months though.”_

_She looked at her briefly before turning her attention back to the map, “You didn’t get to celebrate it. And on the Ark, that’s what you did. You said you’d eat cake and receive presents. You didn’t get to do that. So…I don’t know,” she trailed off._

_“Yeah, I was too busy trying not to die,” Clarke smiled, wanting more than ever to give her lover a kiss on the cheek._

_“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”_

_“Thank you, Lexa. Really, it’s beautiful,” Clarke replied earnestly, finally lowering her arm and moving so that she faced the commander, even though the small distance between them was still too much for her liking._

_“I already had the stone, I just had to get the cord from the markets,” she said in an attempt to dismiss her thoughtful gesture. “The stone can only be found in a cave leagues and leagues away from here though. And it matches your eyes... when you’re happy”_

_“Yeah?” Clarke replied with a smile she couldn’t repress. She felt like the luckiest woman in the world._

_Lexa met her gaze for the first time, mouth slightly open in wonder at the woman right before her. The sinking sun streaming in from the balcony made her look otherworldly. Perfect. “Like that,” she uttered in awe, “It’s my favorite.”_

_Clarke sighed happily, arms fidgeting on her sides impatiently. “When are these people going to leave? I just want to kiss you already.”_

_The commander couldn’t help but smile back at that. That’s what she had been wanting to do for the past ten minutes._

_“Almost,” Lexa whispered._

_The blonde looked over her shoulder and saw the last ones filing out of the room. She placed the necklace around her neck and returned her gaze to Lexa, who was looking right back with a smirk on her lips, having already discarded her notes._

_“I’m going to kiss you in three, two,” Clarke counted and paused until the massive doors clicked shut, “One.”_

_They finally closed the remaining distance between them, Clarke immediately finding her arms around Lexa’s neck and Lexa encircling her arms around the blonde’s waist. And it felt like it had been forever since they’ve done this by the way they happily sighed into the kiss. When really, it had only been that morning when they left with an_ I’ll see you later _kiss, going their separate ways a good part of their day._

_Clarke pulled back and looked down, fondly touching the beautiful stone, “This means so much to me. How can I ever thank you?”_

_“You can keep kissing me.”_

_The blonde laughed lightly. “I support that idea,” readily leaning forward for more._

_The sound of the doors creaking open roused them from their sentimental moment. They practically pushed at each other to keep a safe distance._

_“Clarke, I...” Octavia paused, looking at the guilty pair several feet apart with their faces and necks flushed. “Oh, come on guys,” she groaned. It wasn’t the first time she almost walked in on them._

_“What is it, Octavia?” the commander asked impatiently._

_“Oh um, I needed Clarke for something,” she turned back to her friend. “Raven’s on the radio. She’s asking about something that she thinks you may want that she thinks she can fix… I’m not sure. But you talk to her. Because I have no idea what she’s saying,” she said over her shoulder._

_The pair followed quickly behind her, arms almost touching._

_“I’m never taking this off,” Clarke leaned in her ear, playfully nudging the brunette’s shoulder._

_Lexa chuckled lightly, finding it hard to believe that Clarke would promise such a thing._

 

But she kept her promise. She never took it off. And the fact that the very same necklace is now hanging around a traitor’s neck gives her a sudden sense of dread.

 

“Where is she?” the commander asks, trying to keep her voice from faltering.

 

“She’s safe. For now.” the woman says, dropping the pendant from her hand. “We may even let you keep her. If you just once and for all, be the Heda that the clans need and annihilate her abomination of a clan.”

 

 “I want to see her, _now_ ,” Lexa demanded.

 

“We’ll bring her to you. My men are on her way with her. Right now though, drop all of your weapons and come with me. She’ll be coming soon.”

 

Lexa keeps her swords tightly clasped around her hands.

 

The woman only raises an eyebrow challengingly, walking toward the commander until she’s face to face with her, “Do you want her to arrive safely? Drop your weapons, Heda.”

 

And Lexa finally does. She throws her swords and the only remaining knife she had strapped to her leg.

_There it is_ , she thinks to herself, _this is what they’ve been telling me all along_. _This is what I’ve_ known _all along_.

With each thumping noise that echoes in the woods as she drops her weapons one by one, a single daunting thought matches them.

_Love._

_Is._

_Weakness_.

 

But that doesn’t mean she’ll go down without a fuss.

 

The woman grunts and staggers back as Lexa drives her fist hard straight into her face.

 

“Looks like someone had already broken your nose. I fixed it for you,” the commander smirks as she puts her hands behind her back obligingly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SUPER delayed - i've been busy and blah blah blah. But I have the next chapter practically finished too! weeee


	12. Twelve

 

 

“Maybe _you_ should just keep walking, Lincoln,” Clarke huffs, “Stop turning around every time I make one little sound. What am I going to do? Dodge every piece of leaf I see?”

 

She knows she’s being an asshole. But she can’t help it. She’s already anxious enough about finding Lexa. Lincoln shooting her a look practically each step she takes is making her more uneasy. It’s not her fault that some leaves have fallen on the ground and are making crunching sounds beneath her feet. Not everyone has an ability to walk very silently like a damn ninja.

 

Lincoln slows down to match Clarke’s pace. They left their horses a while back to be able to travel faster in the treacherous path they chose, as well as attempt to stay inconspicuous in a possibly hostile territory.

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke sighs as she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Even with the cold breeze blowing and the sun sunken for hours now, her body temperature has been running hot. “I’m just… on edge that’s all. Are you sure this is where Indra said they’re headed? We’ve been traveling for over a day.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure. A little longer and we should be caught up with them,” he assures her, “And you don’t need to apologize, Clarke. I understand.”

 

He looks at her for a second, eyes softening at the blonde’s flushed face, and Clarke can tell he’s trying to comfort her. Grounders are men of few words, content in conveying their message through actions and silence, and that’s something she’s come to appreciate ever since she landed on Earth. Clarke can only nod back before looking ahead again. She’s grateful to have such caring friends, of course, though nothing will placate her even the tiniest bit at that moment.

 

How could it when each hour passes by with no sign of Lexa, no sign of anyone at all for that matter? How could it when each step she takes, the all-consuming thumping in her chest heightens just a little bit more? How could it when the last hours she had with Lexa were spent fighting and being angry at each other, only making up the minute before the commander left?

 

Clarke inhales deeply, willing her lungs to do its job and bring oxygen back into her body. She rubs her hands on her face, forcing herself to focus and to remain optimistic. She will see Lexa soon, alive and in one healthy piece, and they will go back to Polis and fall asleep in each other’s arms. And the next morning, they’ll wake up, and they’d continue clutching onto each other and let the world do its thing without them for a little while.

 

Clarke repeats this scenario in her head over and over. Positive thinking goes a long way, she’s been told.

 

She gets lost in her own thoughts and would have screamed in alarm if Lincoln didn’t put his hand on her mouth in time as he drags her behind a big tree.

 

The blonde looks back at Lincoln, eyes widened as he raises his other hand’s index finger against his lips, asking Clarke to remain silent. She nods quickly and he finally releases her, pointing toward the path they were just using.

 

She eyes the path, and then Lincoln, shrugging her shoulders as she has no idea at all what the man is talking about. He points again, and she cranes her neck to see just what in the hell he’s seeing that she’s not. Just as she’s about to give up and turn to face Lincoln again, she pauses at the sudden faint vibration she senses. Horses. Footsteps. Voices. Definitely voices.  

 

She looks at him in panic as he holds up his hands to count. Eleven people, he thinks.

 

And they’re not concealing their presence at all, talking in loud voices and even laughing raucously. Both Clarke and Lincoln crouch at the same time as they near, hoping to remain undetected from the unknown group. Despite Lincoln’s strong hold on her shoulders though, urging her to stay hidden, Clarke couldn’t help but raise her head a little to see if who she’s been looking for is with them. She ducks down again, sighing in relief or panic, she doesn’t know, that Lexa in fact is not with them.

 

They stay unmoving and hidden, practically holding their breaths, until the group passes them without notice, giving them time to be a little farther away before Clarke and Lincoln stand up. They look at each other then, silently deciding that they will be following the group, no matter the possible risks.

 

Clarke walks behind Lincoln and actually does try to dodge some leaves this time. But when a blood curdling scream tears through the air, she runs. She runs faster than she’s ever ran until she gets to the edge of the forest overlooking a clearing, immediately lowering herself behind a thick shrub.

 

What she sees will haunt her for the rest of her life.

 

Everything is in chaos. Lifeless men and women from different clans lay on the ground. The few tents that have been burned are collapsing onto the ground, and Clarke can tell that the battle is over with, even though some warriors are feebly still trying to stay on their feet. It was as if the scene before her played in an accelerated motion. The assassins don’t even bother to fully end some of their victims, simply abandoning dying warriors they have severely wounded. It is as if a tornado just happened to be passing by, disappearing leisurely and noisily, leaving a place in ruins behind just as quickly as it arrived.

 

But that’s not the sight that will haunt her.

 

Facedown, breathing sporadically is the commander in her full war outfit. Her brown hair, soiled with dirt and filth, spreads to conceal her face. Her red sash covers her shuddering body, clearly barely managing to hold onto its soul.

 

Time stopped then for Clarke.

 

She read a book on the Ark that claimed that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die. Logically, she knows she isn’t dying, though her heart feels as if it will never beat again. At that moment, Clarke sees, not her whole life exactly. But the moments she really started _living_.

 

Her first back and forth banter with Lexa in her war tent when she was still just the commander to Clarke, debating about who would be better at playing hide and seek. The silly exchange started when the blonde had ducked into her tent to dodge her mother, and Clarke remembers the commander arrogantly smirking, _Well me, of course. Abby’s been outside waiting for you_.

 

The first time she slipped and called the commander by her name, and the way Lexa’s face comically froze as if not knowing whether or not to reprimand her. The brunette simply pressed her lips together and slightly nodded though, probably deciding that she actually doesn’t mind and kind of liked it coming from Clarke’s mouth.

 

The first time she caught Lexa’s eyes traveling to her lips when they were standing side by side, watching warriors train on the campgrounds. The commander immediately dipped her head to hide the flush that crept up her face, turning around and walking away without so much as a goodbye. And the first time that Clarke did the same, that same exact night in the commander’s tent after Lexa took a sip of wine that made her already plump lips impossibly more so. She too dropped her gaze to the ground in an attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks, clearing her throat awkwardly before leaving without another word.

 

The first time they kissed. The first time they made love. The first time she made Lexa truly laugh. The first time they snuck out of the tower in the middle of the night to watch the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms until almost sunrise. The first time they said I love you, and the last time they did.

 

Clarke’s mind pictured all of these within seconds. Even going as far as visualizing things that she’ll never have. A wedding. A dog. A baby. Gray hairs and weakening joints.

 

Clarke chokes back a sob and despite the sight paralyzing her in place for a moment, finally runs to her, Lincoln fast on her heels. The blonde wipes her face, hardly noticing the continuous pool of tears, vision blurring as she reaches the fallen commander.

 

“Lexa?” she croaks as she falls to her knees with a thud. She touches the brunette’s shoulder gently, moving to turn her over. “Lexa,” she says again, more pleadingly this time.

 

Lincoln calls her name, over and over, but she doesn’t hear, doesn’t sense anything else but the woman she loves. She doesn’t respond until he grabs her face, forcing the blonde to look at him instead, “Clarke, look at me.”

 

When she finally complies, he points to the brunette, “It’s red. This woman’s blood is red.” She stares at him blankly as he moves to carefully turn the woman over, “It’s not her, Clarke.”

 

Clarke looks at the woman then. Braided mane that’s actually more black than brown. Frame more muscular than the delicate curves she’s used to holding. Eyes, struggling to keep open that match the woman’s hair rather than the emerald ones she’s been dreaming of the past several nights.

 

 “It’s not her,” she echoes, eyes coming more alive as realization hits her.

 

“Beja, Wanheda” the woman gasps.

 

Clarke only nods, holding the woman’s hand gently as she takes out her knife with the other. Lincoln does the same for the others as he walks around the devastation. “Yu gonplei ste odon,” she softly says, watching the woman close her eyes for the final time.

 

Clarke knows she will grieve this woman she doesn’t know along with the countless casualties in the never-ending war of her life on the ground.

 

This woman who fought valiantly for a cause she believed in. This woman who strengthened her purpose. This woman who gave her hope.

 

After hours of rounding up the dead, they face each other expectantly.

 

“Go to TonDC, Arkadia, wherever. Bring as many warriors as you can,” Clarke declares in a renewed determined voice, to which Lincoln only nods. He knows better than to argue with this Clarke. “I’m going to find her.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lexa tries to stay awake.

 

She knows she needs to in a situation such as this. She has been successful for some time, and she guesses several hours have passed since she was first brought into the dungeon.

 

Despite the foul odor wafting through the stifling air, and the uncomfortable position of her hands cuffed to the walls and feet tied together though, she finds herself nodding off now and then. Her body also knows what it needs in a situation such as this. Even sitting in the near darkness and unable to really see the full extension of her injuries, Lexa identifies each of them easily. Dislocated right shoulder. A broken rib or two. Multiple cuts all over her body, dried blood now delaying any more bleeding, though ordinary movements will most likely open the wounds back up.

 

She’s absolutely exhausted. And though she can’t help but stay awake worrying and thinking and wondering how in the hell she is going to get out of this one, she eventually succumbs to a dreamless sleep.

 

Lexa is only roused from her slumber when a creaking sound reaches her ears. She moves as if to pick up her weapon but ends up tugging on the chains uselessly instead.

 

“Heda,” she greets with a nod, black braided hair swaying as she does.

 

Lexa only raises her eyebrow in response. Finding it ironic and idiotic, that her captors still address her with respect, yet chain her up like an animal at the same time.

 

“You should eat,” the woman assassin finally says after a long moment of staring each other down.

 

She places it next to the commander and cautiously moves to free one of Lexa’s wrist, “Don’t try anything.”

 

When the commander doesn’t and only opens and closes her palm to gain back the feeling of her numbing hand, the woman backs away quickly. She moves toward the only exit, and Lexa can see from where she sits that it is heavily guarded.

 

“I wasn’t always like this,” the woman utters as she stops her movements with her back to Lexa, figuring her commander won’t do any talking. She is right. Lexa doesn’t.

 

The commander stares ahead, no indication that she heard anything at all.

 

“I was a blacksmith’s daughter at a village not far from here. I was expected to do the same as my parents. I didn’t want to, but I would have done it.” The woman says, her voice now taking on a faraway sound as she looks over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you remember this. But you asked several of us from my village to work for you when you last visited.” She finally turns around and faces the commander. “That was years ago. When you first formed the coalition. So much has changed since then... my family,” she chuckles wryly, “was so proud of me when I was chosen. And I stored that pride in my pocket every day. I was happy to serve you. You were my hero.”

 

The woman pauses, voice and gaze hardening all at once, “Then the people from the sky came. And they burned. Killed. Annihilated. And you sat there. And let them. Tell me what you would do if you were in  _my_ shoes. When you are serving the most extraordinary commander yet, and she doesn’t do anything to avenge your family.”

 

Lexa keeps her eyes trained on the cracked door, unmoving, though her eyes softened infinitesimally in response.

 

“Seven, Heda,” she continues. “My mother, my father, and five brothers and sisters. All gone.”

 

Lexa stares ahead, feeling a pang of sadness and anger in her chest. For of course she understands. She knows the feeling of loved ones getting killed and wanting nothing but justice for them.

 

As far as she can remember, Lexa had detested the Mountain men. Not only did she witness unspeakable horrors they did to her people for decades, but also to her very own family. She felt that grief personally, _lived_ it her whole life. She understands the feeling of the all-consuming anguish and needing someone to blame, someone to exact revenge on.

 

And Lexa took that away from her people. In the back of her mind, she’s always known. She _knows_ why some of her people would abhor her. She thinks she might too if she were them.

 

For she wouldn’t want anything else other than vengeance.

 

What else could she want?

 

After all, that was all she desired when her village had been ransacked and the few remaining family she had were captured by the mountain men. She remembers receiving the news a few years after she started training in Polis before the conclave. She hadn’t been back ever since she left, but the former commander promised her that she would take Lexa with her when she travels that area in a few months’ time.

 

Lexa never had the chance to. 

 

The former commander had given her the news and Lexa then spent the afternoon striking a tree with her bare fists. She didn’t feel any emotion other than pure unadulterated fury. The tears didn’t come until Costia had found her that night and tightly wrapped her arms around Lexa’s trembling form.

 

_And, Costia_. Her sweet Costia. An innocent woman who had nothing but love and kindness to offer. Lexa doesn’t know how she survived it, how she restrained herself. For she wanted nothing more than to make Queen Nia and all of Azgeda suffer through the same thing Costia did, if not worse.

 

But to this day, she asks herself, what would that do? It certainly won’t bring them back. But would killing an entire clan finally fill the hollow hole in this woman’s heart?

 

When the mountain men were defeated, all of her people rejoiced. But that happiness soon turned to indifference. And then disinterest. And that hollow feeling inevitably comes back again. As if each of those that have departed have taken a little piece of their loved ones with them. She has lost so many that she believed for a long time, even peacefully came to terms with it, that she would forever carry around a fragmented heart.

 

Until it wasn’t. Until she was proven wrong.

 

And maybe, just maybe, as the commander, Lexa can end it. Put a stop to this cycle of killing and emptiness. Break the pattern of the aching void within.

 

The commander finally spares the woman a glance, eyes much softer this time. “I am sorry that you’re hurting, and that you’re grieving. I know what you’re going through. But this isn’t the answer. For almost a century, our people have done nothing but kill. And that leads to nothing but more killing. It is time we put a stop to this senselessness.”

 

The woman is quiet for a moment, expression softening and then hardening just as fast. “Eat, Heda. You have until tomorrow to change your mind.”

 

“Where’s Clarke?” Lexa shouts, but the door has already closed. She’s left in the near darkness once more, wondering if she will ever see her love again.

 

She can only hope that if Clarke does come, she won’t come alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Someone’s following her.

 

Whoever it is, is actually doing a pretty decent job, staying far away enough to be concealed, but following stealthily and quickly that they won’t lose sight of her.

 

But Onya isn’t particularly a novice at this. And if she wasn’t pressed on time, she’d probably even take pleasure in dragging this game of cat and mouse.

 

As it is, the girl has people to find, hopefully safe and sound. She continues walking along the path casually, fighting the urge to walk faster and look over her shoulder in an attempt to keep up the unassuming pretense.

 

She hates doing this but it’s her only choice if she has any chance of losing her pursuer. So when she sees a big enough tree situated on a downhill slope, Onya lets go of the reins and slaps the horse’s rear. Before the animal had even started galloping away, she rolls down the hill to hide. _That’ll lose them_ , she thinks smugly.

 

She stays in her crouched position, unmoving, and hears hesitant footsteps above her. She’s tempted to peek behind the tree to see who the person is, but manages to stay in place until the pacing sound is faint and then completely disappears.

 

The girl smiles triumphantly and starts to get up from her position, eager to continue onto her journey.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice says behind her, making Onya jump in place. Perhaps she’s not as good at this game than she thought.

 

“Holy fork, Octavia! You scared the shirt off of me!”

 

“What? What’re you even say… never mind,” Octavia shakes her head at the strange girl. “Answer my question, where are you going?”

 

“I’m following Clarke,” the girl answers, looking at the ground uneasily, “But I haven’t seen her. I don’t know where she is, but I was pretty sure this is where she was headed.”

 

“She’s with Lincoln, they took another route. But that’s irrelevant, Onya, _why_ are you trying to find her? This is dangerous. You could get hurt, you don’t know what’s out here,” Octavia reprimands.

 

“I just…I just want to be there. Just in case they need me,” Onya says. “And now my horse is gone. Why’d you have to sneak up on me like that?” she frowns.

 

“You’re not exactly the easiest person to track, even lugging around an animal five times your size.”

 

Onya grins at that, pleased to know that her training had paid off. She grabs a hold of some roots and climbs out of the bank, looking down at Octavia expectantly. “Well?”

 

“Well what?” Octavia raises an eyebrow.

 

“Are you coming? Let’s go, we don’t have much time”

 

Octavia climbs up and faces her, “Nope, _we_ are going back to Polis.” She turns to walk toward the other direction and looks over her shoulder at the girl who stands with her arms stubbornly crossed. “I’m not joking Onya. Let’s go.”

 

Onya doesn’t move.

 

“Clarke said to keep you safe. And Polis is safe. So that’s where we’ll go.” Octavia walks back to face her once again. “Now _please_ , just come with me.”

 

“Just a little more ways, and I know we’ll find them. I just want to make sure they’re okay,” the girl replies quietly. “And then we can go.”

 

Octavia eyes her quietly for a moment, silently pondering the unexpected deep concern the girl has.

 

“Just a little more ways, and if we don’t find anything, we’re going back,” Octavia concedes, making Onya smile widely.

 

“That sounds like a deal,” the girl replies, already turning on her heel to start walking again, Octavia right next to her.

 

“Clarke is going to kill me,” she whispers to herself.

 

“No she won’t. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine,” she sighs hopefully.

 

They stop after a little while to rest. It is as if fate brought them to a stop at that exact spot when they hear a quiet whimper that made both put their waterskins away in search of the sound. They don’t have to travel far until they find the source leaning against a tree, hand covering a wound on her stomach.

 

Octavia quickly runs to her side in alarm, “Indra! What happened?”

 

The general looks at her former second, a small smile on her lips, relieved to be seeing a familiar face of all places. And Octavia briefly thinks that this is probably the first time she’s seen the general looking so delighted even though each breath she takes seems to be taking a toll on her injured body.

 

But then Indra’s smile disappears just as fast, replaced by her signature stern mask, seemingly just remembering why she is currently poised against a tree, slowly succumbing to her wounds. “ _Natronas,”_ she spits out. “They have her, Octavia. They’ve captured Heda.”

 

They both turn at the sound of a gasp coming from Onya standing a few feet away from them. Indra’s barely open eyes widen just the tiniest of bit at the sight, penetratingly studying the small girl with wild hair dressed ready for combat, as if attempting to recall a time when she met someone alike from a distant past.

 

The general’s musing is interrupted as Octavia fires question after question, making Indra roll her eyes as much as she could. She’s forgotten how exasperating her former second is, no matter how loyal and skilled.

 

“What do you mean? Who took her? Where were you? Do you know where they went? Where are the others? Have you seen Clarke and Lincoln?” Octavia asks while unscrewing her waterskin and offering it to the woman before her. 

 

Indra sighs, straining to keep her patience. Octavia sure knows how to test it. But they’re valid questions after all. So despite her quickly depleting energy and consciousness, she answers as best as she can. “We made camp several miles from here. If you veer to the left side off of the path, the others are there. Dead,” she recalls as she stares ahead at nothing, “We were ambushed. No, I have not seen your Lincoln or the Skai girl. But you need to gather an army and go there… before it’s too late.”

 

“ _Were_ going to gather an army. Can you walk?”

 

“It’ll take too long,” Indra shakes her head impatiently, “Take the girl, and bring back as many men as you can.”

 

Octavia grumbles in protest. “No way, I’m not leaving you. Onya, help me…” she trails as she looks at where the girl was just standing a few minutes ago.

 

Except that spot is now empty, and the girl is nowhere in sight.

 

“Damn it, kid,” she curses under her breath.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke wakes up with the sun that morning after a restless period of sleep.

 

She had been walking for hours throughout the night and never thought to stop until she tripped and lost her balance, causing her to clumsily fall on the rock covered ground. Thinking the cold lumpy surface was as good a place as any to sleep, the blonde rolled onto her back and closed her eyes for what she hoped would be a revitalizing slumber.

 

Except it was anything but.

 

Her dreams ever since she landed on the ground have been plagued by fire and death and explosions. And those are still very much present.

 

But the night before had an addition to the normal rotation; a very vivid image of Lexa smiling and laughing in front of Clarke, looking over her shoulder with her hand stretched out beckoning for her to come.

 

Clarke sees herself eagerly reaching out to grab a hold of it.

 

But she doesn’t get a chance to.

 

And then the love of her life all of a sudden is lying on the floor with lifeless eyes. And in her dreams, Clarke stares at the emerald orbs for what seems like hours, not daring to forcibly close them just yet. Not able to bear living without seeing them again.

 

Over and over the scene played in her mind until she woke. As if life is playing a cruel joke, giving her a sense of pure bliss, only to take it away just as suddenly.

 

_Fuck if I let that happen_ , she thinks to herself as she angrily wipes the remnant of tears from her cheeks.

 

She puts on an undaunted face and proceeds to walk on the path Lincoln told her to follow. She immediately stops on her tracks though for she didn’t expect to run into anyone so soon after, let alone the woman currently standing near her.

 

“Riva?”

 

The woman turns around slowly at the sound of her name, unsurprised, as if she has been waiting for the blonde to do so.

 

“I was wondering when you were going to get up. I didn’t want to wake you. You... seemed to be having a fit.”

 

Clarke dipped her head in slight embarrassment. She sometimes forgets that her nightmares come with a good amount of screaming and thrashing around. Poor Lexa had to get used to it. “What’re you doing here? I had been looking for you. They told me you went to visit your family.”

 

“Yes, I did. But I ran into one of Heda’s group on my way back and decided to go with them,” she slowly steps forward, “Clarke.”

 

Clarke’s heart starts to race when she doesn’t continue after a moment. “What is it?” she asks softly.

 

“Heda’s alive. But she’s been captured by some assassins. They… they don’t agree with her decisions lately.”

 

The blonde lets out a breath she’s been holding. Of course it’s about that. “Where is she? Do you know? Where did they take her?”

 

“Yes it’s not too far from here but I’m afraid there will be guards all around the area. It’s too dang...”

 

“Take me.”

 

“Clarke...”

 

She shakes her head impatiently, “I don’t care. Just take me. And I’ll... I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Okay,” Riva sighs. “But get behind me, just in case.”

 

They walk in silence for a little while, Clarke following directly behind the woman, attempting to tread just as carefully.

 

“Riva?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What the hell happened to your nose?”

 

The woman doesn’t get a chance to answer as they enter a clearing with an entrance that is guarded by several warriors. They stop behind a bush for a moment, and Clarke assumes they’ll be there for a while planning extensively on how they’ll get past those big guards.

 

Instead, Riva turns to her, features intense all of a sudden, “Give me your sword. When I count to three, you’re going to run to the left side over there and I’m going to distract them. Only come when you hear a whistle.”

 

Clarke furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she slowly hands over her weapon. “Wait, what’re you going to do?”

 

“One, two,” she whispers, urging Clarke to get up from her crouching position.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Three.”

 

And Clarke doesn’t have a choice but to run toward the hidden path the woman pointed to, while Riva does the same in the opposite direction, heading straight toward the guards. All the while, she thinks that this is possibly the worst suicidal plan ever, not that she’d have a better one anyway. 

 

She rests her hands on her knees, breathing heavily as she reaches the side of the crumbling building, which she assumes is being used as a dungeon where Lexa is. She presses her back firmly against the concrete and closes her eyes in an attempt to ease the thumping in her chest, willing herself to stay in place as she hears grunts and clashing of swords. When minutes have gone by, Clarke pushes herself off the wall in a nervous huff, deciding on whether to turn around or just go for it.

 

She thankfully doesn’t have to choose as she hears a long whistle coming from the right side, prompting her to take off running immediately at the sound.

 

Upon arrival, Clarke briefly glances at the bodies on the ground and an unscathed Riva already opening a rusty door.

 

She doesn’t have time to wonder how her attendant possibly subdued all these men. She doesn’t have time to care.

 

For once the door cracks open and she sees a lone figure on the floor shackled to the walls, Clarke instantly pushes Riva aside.

 

“Lexa!” she gasps as she reaches the commander, head lolled forward. A tear slides down the blonde’s cheek as she touches the commander’s face, stained by dirt and blood, “Lexa, wake up.”

 

Clarke is met by silence and she takes the time to roam her eyes on her lover’s injured form, taking note of the multiple lacerations and possibly broken bones. “Babe, wake up,” she pleads, shaking the brunette’s shoulder lightly.

 

Lexa stirs at the touch, and slowly lifts her head up, meeting Clarke’s relieved eyes for the first time in days. “Clarke?” she rasps.

 

“Hey, you,” Clarke smiles in relief, despite the tears running down her cheeks.

 

“You’re here,” she smiles back. But it instantly disappears as she darts her eyes around the small room, “Who are you with?”

 

“I’m with her,” Clarke replies, shifting to her left to reveal her attendant casually leaning on the doorway. She moves to examine the locks attached to the chain. “Riva, can you help me with these?”

 

“No, no, no,” Lexa murmurs.

 

“What is it?” Clarke asks absentmindedly, “Riva, a little help here.”

 

Riva only crosses her arms as she remains in her position.  

 

Clarke finally looks up at the woman, suddenly surrounded by warriors that were on the ground just a few minutes ago, now standing upright with their weapons drawn. “What’re you doing?” she asks, not ready to believe just yet what she thinks might be happening.

 

“That was almost too easy,” the woman sneers. “ _Wanheda_ ,” she hisses before slamming the door shut.

 

 


	13. Thirteen

“Don’t you even think about saying it,” Clarke says.

 

Lexa doesn’t answer, only staring ahead at nothing in the nearly dark room. Judging from the scant sunlight coming from a small hole near the top of the disintegrating room, she supposes it’s now close to midday. Which means they must be coming for them soon.

 

“I swear if you say it,” the blond follows.

 

No response.

 

“No? Nothing? Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?” Clarke asks as she twists her body trying to face her lover to her left, tugging the chains from the walls noisily.

 

A man had come back after Riva’s melodramatic exit, remembering that she too needed to be restrained. She thought about taking the knife attached to his hip but thought better of it after one warning look from Lexa. She figured the burly warrior could have easily crushed her head with one hand before she could even get close to touching it anyway. And that doesn’t sound like the most pleasant way to die.

 

“You don’t want to say it? Okay I’ll say it for you,  _now two will die here instead one._ Then I say,  _in my culture, we say thank you.”_

 

The blonde is met with a deafening silence.

 

Clarke looks at the commander’s profile, taking note of her tightened jaw and unblinking eyes. She is definitely not amused. “Lexa,” the blonde murmurs softly. “Just say something.  _Please_. If you’re disappointed, mad, whatever. Just tell me,” she pleads.

 

Lexa grinds her teeth irritably. She thinks of not answering, perfectly content in silently stewing in her own thoughts, but before she knows it, her words come spilling out in a venomous tone, much like the Heda that Clarke had first met.

 

“You ask if I’m disappointed? Yes, Clarke, I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed in myself that I failed to do my duty to keep my people safe.

 

You ask if I’m mad. Why yes, I’m mad. Countless have died for a pointless cause.

 

You ask if I’m whatever? That’s a good way to put it. _Whatever_ ,” she scoffs. “I can’t explain whatever else I am feeling right now. Let’s see... we’re both helplessly chained up in here. We don’t know if we’re going to get reinforcement in time for when these traitors come for us. We don’t know if they’re coming at all.”

 

“I told you, Lincoln will be back with an army. We’ll be fine…” the blonde counters.

 

“And that’s the thing, Clarke. _You_ should have been with him. What were you thinking?” she questions irritably, finally looking at Clarke who is staring right back, chewing on her lip apprehensively.

 

“I didn’t…” Clarke starts lamely, pausing for a moment, not really knowing how else to continue. “You’re right,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of a better plan. I didn’t really think this one through. I should have waited for a better opportunity to get you out of here.”

 

“That’s not the point!” Lexa shouts, slamming her shackled fists against the concrete wall. “You shouldn’t have come at all. _Now two will die here, instead of one_. There – I said it,” the commander finishes, keeping her focus straight ahead again.

 

Clarke averts her gaze, gasping at the same time at the commander’s harsh words. Of course she knows Lexa is right. But she wanted to see her for herself. And she wanted to be the one to save her. Lexa has done the same for her so many times, that Clarke also believes that the commander even kept her from destroying her own soul. But she couldn’t possibly voice those thoughts at that moment.

 

“I’m sorry,” she can only repeat.

 

They are quiet for a long time, and Clarke thinks that the commander has fallen asleep judging by the brunette’s steady rise and fall of her chest and eyes firmly shut.

 

But then, “I told you when we first met that I’ve lost someone special,” Lexa utters softly.

 

And if they weren’t in a small near-empty room, sounds bouncing off the walls easily, Clarke wouldn’t have heard her even if they were sitting next to each other. The blonde only looks at her lover curiously, patiently waiting for her to continue. Of course she knows the story about Lexa’s former lover. It was the first thing that the commander had opened up about that made her seem more human, regardless of her dismissal of her feelings right after. It was the first thing that made her seem _real_.

 

“Her head was brought to me in a dirty sack, days after her execution. It didn’t even look like her anymore,” the commander continues, eyes still closed and lips barely moving. “I felt a lot of things back then. Rage, hatred, anguish, shock, numbness. All at once. It was strange – feeling all of that at the same time, but I expected it. I’ve lost people I cared about before after all. What I didn’t expect though was to feel _relief_.”

 

Clarke furrows her eyebrows in confusion but stays silent, not wanting to disrupt the other woman.

 

“It felt odd feeling that way, I know. I never told anyone, not even Anya,” she resumes. “If I was there, I would’ve done everything to protect her. Had I been there, but was unable to do just that though, and was forced to watch… I was relieved that I didn’t witness it.”

 

Clarke only continues watching, chest heaving in correspondence with Lexa’s faster breathing now.

 

The commander finally opens her wet eyes, turning to face her lover, but gaze much softer than before. “Now you’re here, being held captive and promised death if I don’t give in to their demands. And I… I love you more than anything, Clarke. If that happens…” she utters, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. “If anything could _break_ me Clarke, it would be that. How could you do _that_?”

 

The blonde snivels in response, turning her head away to wipe her tears on her sleeves as best as she can, though the action is futile as they don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. Breaking Lexa’s heart is the last thing Clarke wants to do, and seeing her like this, so torn and defeated, shatters her too.

 

“What’re their demands?” she asks.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Clarke doesn’t bother arguing that, of course it does matter. She thinks she knows what it is anyway. They sit in silence for a few minutes but if this is really one of their last moments together, she figures she might as well bare her soul to the only person worth exposing her whole being to.

 

“I’ve told you about my dad,” she rasps, meeting Lexa’s inquisitive eyes.

 

“I know I’ve only told you pleasant memories about him. That’s what I want to remember,” the blonde continues. “I watched him die. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. And I stood there and I did nothing. I understand, I really do. Seeing that and the fact that the last memory of him I have was his body being sucked into space, that was painful.”

 

She tries to swallow a lump forming in her throat, heaving uncontrollably instead – still she keeps on. “But what was even more painful was the feeling that I could’ve and should’ve done more to save him. I love you more than _everything_ , Lexa. And I’m never going to sit around waiting for the same thing to happen to you. How could you expect me to do _that_?”

 

The commander’s expression visibly softens in response, heart melting and breaking at the same time. With so many deaths caused by her very hands, she still finds it unbelievable that someone could love her so much that they’d be willing to sacrifice their life for her. Her subjects would do the same, of course, out of duty and admiration. This incredible thing with Clarke, she’s slowly realizing, although not without a good serving of self-loathing, is entirely different. And it feels good, knowing that she loves and is loved as much in return. But it also hurts, knowing what her people are capable of, what dangers lie ahead and what it could mean for the both of them.

 

Lexa twists her body and moves as close as she can to the now sobbing blonde. “Clarke…” she softly calls.

 

With their wrists firmly chained to the walls, the closest she could get is the tip of her fingertips grazing the other woman’s. But it’s better than nothing. “Hey, look at me. Beja ai hodnes, look at me,” she implores. When Clarke finally does, she wishes more than anything she could kiss her tears away. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll try to buy us some time.”

 

Clarke faintly moves her fingers against Lexa’s in response as they share a sense of optimism, as bleak as it is, for the first time ever since they’ve been imprisoned.

 

“ _When_ we get out, I’m sorry in advance, but I’m going to keep trying to keep your spirit where it is, just like you do for me,” the blonde declares after a few moments of silence.

 

“I don’t suppose I can ever stop you.”

 

“Nope. Even if it means doing stupid things like this.”

 

“You’re exasperating.”

 

“You like it,” Clarke says with another wiggle of her fingertips.

 

Despite their near hopeless circumstance with a barely formed plan, Lexa smiles fondly. “I do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She sees it all – watches the whole scene as if in slow motion, standing on the sidelines like a spectator witnessing an unsuspecting protagonist do a very very stupid thing.

 

Onya braces herself with her hand against a tree as she sees Clarke run to the side of the building while the woman she suspects to be the assassin she saw in the tower the night of the murder run the other direction. When the blonde is out of sight, the woman slows her steps and lowers her weapon as she approaches the many guards waiting for her signal. As if rehearsed countless times, the men engage in a simulated brawl, grunting and swinging their swords, then falling to the ground awkwardly. Onya would have found the sight humorous if she didn’t guess what was about to happen.

 

_It’s a trap_ , she gasps.

 

And the girl wants to do nothing more than to race toward Clarke, and shout for her to run far far away.

 

She sees the blonde enter the dungeon, knowing that she won’t be coming back out.

 

Onya wills herself to stay in place, grasping the bark of the tree firmly, even as it threatens to cut into her skin in an attempt to physically stop her body to do what it wants to.

 

When the door closes, she finally releases her grip, crouching down behind the tree to inspect the contents of her small pouch, thankful that she had the mind to grab it from her horse’s saddle before it took off running.

 

She looks over her shoulder and studies the group of men and the woman in discussion, weapons still drawn and ready, postures tense and alert. It wouldn’t be wise to execute a substandard plan with so many warriors high on adrenaline.

 

With a sigh, the girl tips her head back against the rough bark.

 

And so, she waits.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waiting as it turns out, didn’t take as long as Onya expected. For after a couple of hours of deliberation, the group of warriors surrounding the dungeon entrance slowly disperses, only leaving five to stand in guard. The woman and the others hurriedly disappear in horses. To where, Onya doesn’t know or care.

 

She’s aware she can’t waste any more time pondering about the who, what, and where.  

 

As soon as the sound of hooves clicking turn faint, and even before the vibration on the ground from them fully disappears, she knows it’s time to make her move.

 

She shifts from behind the tree, positioning herself on her stomach as she inches closer to the group of men, weapons still in their hands but chattering away amongst themselves, seemingly relaxed and certain there are no prowlers around them. Why their leader chose such inept warriors to stand guard for the two most important women on Earth is beyond her. Though she finds it a bit insulting, Onya decides it may just be her lucky day.

 

Gently, and oh so slowly, the girl takes out her favored weapon from her pouch, raising her upper body on her elbows as she examines a tube-like ammo filled with clear liquid, careful not to touch the pointy end. Of the very few possessions she thought to take with her to Polis, she’s glad she took these little handy things.

 

She loads the wooden slingshot with a tube, and points it to the warrior closest to her, already planning to aim for the one to his right after. She brought a good amount of these with her but missing her target too many times will definitely alert them of her position.

 

Breathing deeply, she focuses on her mark and pulls the rubber back and exhales as she lets go.

 

It misses. _Crud_ , she puffs.

 

Though she’s glad it landed on the grass nowhere near the guards. She tries again.

 

_Relax. Inhale_ , she instructs herself. _Aim,_ closing one eye for good measure. _Pull_ , not too far back but just enough.

_Release_ , hearing the sweet faint rushing sound. _Exhale_ , the girl breathes out.

She doesn’t have time to congratulate herself as her target pats the back of his neck and finds what just stung him, holding the foreign object between his fingers with a look of curiosity.

 

By the time the second guard feels the same tingly feeling and the first body finally hits the ground, the three others stand in attention and dart their eyes nervously, looking for the source of what’s surely about to strike them.

 

_Maybe you shouldn’t stand in place,_ Onya taunts as she finds her momentum and releases the next round of assault, only missing twice in her haste before they too, are grasping the strange object in their hands.

 

She runs toward them before their bodies even collapse.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Let me talk to her.”

 

“No, Clarke.”

 

“She likes me.”

 

“I think you being locked up in here with me, pretty much proves that your attendant never liked you,” Lexa turns her head away from her lover. “ _Natrona_ ,” she spits out. “I can’t believe I let her be near you all this time.”

 

The commander has been punishing herself for hours. Sometimes in her own head, sometimes out loud, both with the same bitterness toward herself.

 

Clarke wishes so badly she can wrap her arms around the brunette’s neck and kiss her over and over again until Lexa believes that none of this is her fault. That whatever happens, she’ll be there with her always. That they’ll get past this, alive, like all the other times before, and all the many more times in the future.

 

“Lexa,” she calls, observing the commander’s glassy eyes. Clarke doesn’t know how else she can say it. No matter how much she tries to reassure the brunette verbally, it’s very obvious that it just falls on deaf ears. “Okay fine, you can talk to her,” she concedes.

 

That finally stops Lexa’s angry stewing. She looks at Clarke lovingly, nodding slightly in agreement and appreciation. She is still the Heda after all. And although her people are right that in a lot of ways, Clarke influences her decisions, she knows that if Clarke’s outlook differs with hers, her lover would still stand by her side.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Clarke murmurs as she lets her head fall back on the concrete wall, looking at her girlfriend wistfully. She’s done talking about everything else.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” the brunette whispers just as quietly.

 

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get home?”

 

_Home,_ she says. Nonchalantly. So naturally. _Clarke thinks of Polis as home_ , Lexa smiles shyly. “Definitely take a bath.”

 

“Me too. Second thing?”

 

“Eat.”

 

“Uh huh, same. A freshly baked bread with warm butter would be good. Third?”

 

“Sleep.”

 

“What position?”

 

“Are we still talking about sleep?” Lexa tilts her head to the side, earning a raised eyebrow from Clarke. She chuckles, “Ummm... a lot of options here, love. Probably you, with your back against my front. My nose on the back of your neck.”

 

“And your hand on my breast.”

 

“And my hand on your breast,” Lexa agrees with a slight chuckle.

 

“Fourth?”

 

The commander doesn’t get to answer as they hear the sound of jiggling keys. It seems like whoever is on the other side is having a hard time opening the ancient door.

 

_You are Heda,_ she reminds herself, _There’s no room for negotiation_

 

Lexa repeats what she and Clarke agreed to in her head. Although it took a good amount of push and pull between the two, they finally came to a conclusion. That they will tell them that they’re going give up any of those in the Skaikru who played a big part in the Pike rebellion. They can only hope that their captors will take some time to deliberate until her own army arrives.

 

The door slowly creaks open, and both Clarke and Lexa wonder why their captors are all of a sudden hesitant when they’ve been very good at putting on such a production all this time.

 

They silently gasp in unison when a wiry head much smaller than their captors, peeks through the cracked door.

 

_It’s no assassin at all_ , they think. They dare _hope_.

 

“Hello?” the girl calls before her eyes land on the women.

 

“Onya? What’re you doing here?” Clarke gasps.

 

The girl sighs in relief and fully opens the door, darting the short trek toward them, immediately taking out her knife to cut the tight ropes binding their feet.

 

“Her first,” Clarke gestures to her lover, not missing the commander’s eye roll as she takes in the girl’s torn expression of who to set free first.

 

Onya simply nods and moves to examine the locks, brows in furrow as she tries to find the right keys. “They left so I thought I’d help out,” she explains as she tries two that don’t quite fit, grunting in frustration at countless keys available when there’s only one door and four locks to open.

 

“Who are you with?” the commander asks, kicking the discarded rope freeing her legs.

 

The girl pauses but stays silent, lowering her head imperceptibly.

 

“Onya, where’s Octavia?” the blonde prods.

 

“We... we found Indra and,” she falters as she feels two set of eyes boring into the side of her head, “and Octavia went to take her back to TonDC for healing. And to gather an army,” she finally answers hesitantly.

 

“You’re by yourself?” Clarke practically shouts, making the girl wince a little with a frown, although not for long as she finally frees the commander’s right wrist.

 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t alone for long, I promise!” already moving to set the other one free. This one required the same key, she’s happy to find.

 

Within the next few minutes, Clarke’s wrists are unbound too. The blonde shakes out her arms, still mumbling about the importance of following orders, that this is a dangerous territory, and that she could’ve gotten killed, missing Lexa’s raised eyebrow at the double standards of her words.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the girl repeats sincerely.

 

They cautiously move toward the exit, Lexa, even as she slightly limps from her injuries, is predictably at the front with her arm out protectively.

 

“We will talk about this later,” the commander affirms, making the other two zip their mouths tightly.

 

When Lexa steps out into the light and finds that all of the guards are on the ground unconscious, she quickly turns around to face the girl questioningly, a look of fright and worry set on her features.

 

“They’re just napping,” Onya shrugs, making Clarke and Lexa audibly sigh in relief.

 

The two women search the warriors for weapons, taking however many they can carry all at once. Clarke replaces her stolen sword with one bigger and heavier, and several deadly looking knives. She doesn’t have as much practice using smaller blades against people, but what better way to test her skills if not in a real life and death situation. The commander chooses two swords, slicing the air with both. They’re not as sharp and light as her normal ones, but they will do. She picks up the remaining knives and expertly places them in the many leather compartments attached to her pants.

 

_Too many,_ Clarke thinks as she stands waiting impatiently with her hands on her hips.

 

Lexa catches her eye and responds as if she knows exactly what the blonde is thinking, “What? You can never have enough.” She looks around the clearing and motions to her right, already starting to walk, “This way.”

 

“But that’s where they went,” Onya protests causing the two to come to an abrupt stop, “What if they come back?”

 

Clarke and Lexa look at each other contemplatively then, almost as if conversing telepathically. They know there is no way they can overcome a group of warriors given their current state. Clarke, with her average handiness in blades. She had to quickly learn how to use a knife during her three-month stint out in the wild by herself. Lexa insisted she train with the novice warriors every now and then once they got back to Polis recently. She isn’t bad, or at least that’s what Lexa said when she watched her a few times, but the commander may be biased. So the thought of going against warriors that have been training ever since they were children scares Clarke for obvious reasons.

 

The commander has impressive fighting skills, of course, but her injuries will surely affect that. No matter how much she tries to conceal the severity of it, Clarke can tell that Lexa is favoring one leg over the other and that each step she takes causes too great of a discomfort to try to take on too many warriors and protect both Clarke and Onya. The child has obvious remarkable talent and tenacity, but she’s still that; a child.

 

“Okay,” the commander agrees, “This way,” gesturing the opposite way. She knows it will double the travel time for them to get to Polis and that they may completely miss her army. But the possibility of successfully moving quickly and quietly with two others in tow in a territory ran by traitors will be next to impossible.

 

They start walking quickly, Clarke squeezing Lexa’s hand and the brunette doing the same, before the two surround the girl as if in an unspoken agreement, with the commander leading and the blonde bringing up the rear.

 

They move silently, even though their minds are anything but, simultaneously repeating the same mantra in their heads. _Everything’s going to be okay_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been several tiring hours traveling on foot with very minimal breaks. Every now and then, Clarke will break ranks and walk next to Lexa when she hears an irregular disruption in her breathing pattern or sees a slouched posture, different from her usually perfectly straight spine.

 

Clarke can tell the commander is exhausted. If she herself is feeling as drained as she is, she can imagine Lexa feels infinitely worse given her injuries.

 

“I’m fine, Clarke,” Lexa drones automatically before Clarke even reached her.

 

“You keep saying that,” the blonde whispers frustratingly, even though Onya can still obviously hear their entire conversation. “But maybe we should…”

 

“We don’t have time for rest. We’ve already taken too many already,” Lexa looks at Clarke, hoping she’d understand her desperation in getting them at least close to a Trikru village border. She glances at the sky, clouds that have been gradually turning grey and guesses they only have several hours until it starts getting dark and that they’d no longer be safe traveling in the forest. It would be especially challenging if it starts raining as she predicts it will. But she also knows from experience that making camp in a hostile territory isn’t any more safe than the first option.

 

“We’ve only taken two.”

 

“Two, too many,” Lexa replies quickly, “Just trust me, Clarke. I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” the blonde sighs, searching for Lexa’s hand to press onto hers for a moment. She had been doing this every now and then their entire trek. At first hoping to give the commander comfort but finding that she is actually doing it for selfish reasons as the simple physical contact is the only thing that’s keeping her grounded. She can only hope that it does the same for Lexa, and judging from the other woman’s vice-like grip, it does.

 

Clarke starts to move away back to her position behind Onya when she notices that she’s the only one still walking and the commander and the girl are both halted, heads slightly tilted for better hearing and hands clutching their weapons still hidden away. The commander’s arm is stretched out protectively as eyes dart around the area, less dense now and definitely more suitable for horses Clarke wishes they had.

 

The blonde stays in place in a frozen stance, with her arms that were swinging a few moments ago, now unmoving in the air. She too looks around but doesn’t see or hear anything in particular worth paying attention to. She is getting really frustrated of her own lack of practice in paying close attention to imperceptible things that grounders pick up on immediately.

 

_What is it_ , she wants to ask, looking at the commander questioningly.

 

And then she hears it. Horses. Riding fast. Much too fast toward them. She huffs in annoyance. Because why does she only hear things when they’re close.

 

The commander turns around to face the girl, slightly crouching to get close to Onya’s eye level, “Onya, when I say the word _run_ , you _run_ ,” she says rapidly, pointing to where they were just coming from. “As fast as you can, as far away from here as you can.”

 

Clarke’s racing heart is certainly beating even faster now at hearing Lexa’s frantic words. She looks at the girl, eyebrows furrowed and a pout on her lips, visibly torn on whether or not to follow her commander’s orders.

 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Clarke nods encouragingly, even though she isn’t sure that’s a promise she should be making. She touches the girl’s shoulder gently, and she doesn’t know why she’s on the verge of tears, “Octavia and Lincoln are coming soon. They’ll find you.”

 

Onya only continues to look between the two, biting her lower lip as if in contemplation.

 

She doesn’t have time to contemplate it turns out, as Lexa abruptly bolts upright and turns around, back facing the girl, taking out both of her swords in one quick motion.

 

“Run,” the Heda commands. And when she doesn’t hear a sound behind her, Lexa looks over her shoulder at the girl still standing there apprehensively. She softly implores this time, “ _Run_ , Onya.”

 

And so the girl does.

 

The two women watch her go until the she’s barely a speck in the air. Until her footsteps are replaced with louder ones, those of horses kicking up dust as they thunder through the forest.

 

Clarke takes out her weapon as well, although not at all as confident as the woman next to her.

 

When the first several warriors in obvious pursuit of them are finally in sight, Lexa looks at her lover for a moment, and Clarke thinks she’s about to say something along the lines of _I love you, death is not the end, my spirit will choose wisely_ or some other end of their life bullshit that Clarke doesn’t want to hear. Not, “I never told you the fourth thing I wanted to do when we get home.”

 

“What?”

 

Lexa leans in her ear and quietly whispers, “I’m going to fuck you.”

 

Clarke’s mouth comically hangs open. She knows this isn’t the time or place to be so turned on. But she can’t help it, she can count the times on one hand Lexa has said that word. And it’s always had the same effect on her.

 

Clarke shakes her head slowly and despite herself, she chuckles, “Wow, you have the absolute worst timing, babe.”

 

The commander only shrugs, assuming a fighting stance as their enemies come closer.

 

The blonde does the same, “But you sure know how to make a girl want to live.”

 

The commander slashes at a man’s neck while piercing another in the stomach. As the bodies fall and she regains her footing, she briefly looks at Clarke, impressively throwing a knife at a man a few feet away from them.

 

Lexa smiles knowingly as she takes on another warrior, a woman this time.

 

What can she say. She knows what she’s doing.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

It could’ve been mere minutes or hours ever since she left them. She isn’t so sure anymore. The thumping in her chest hasn’t slowed down one bit ever since she decided to stop running and found a tall dense-enough tree to climb on.

 

Onya leans her head back on the rough bark, gripping the branch under her, thankfully strong enough to support her weight.

 

_Did I do this?_ She asks herself. She’s been beating herself up the moment her legs started moving away from Clarke and Lexa. _This is my fault_.

 

The girl closes her eyes for a moment, silently praying that when she opens them again, she’ll find that she is just waking up from a very bad dream. That she didn’t just leave Clarke and Lexa for slaughter. That she’d be back in Polis, lying in bed waiting for another chance to do this all over again the right way. The one where no one gets killed.

 

She squeezes her eyes tightly for a few more seconds for good measure, although she’s well aware that there’s no waking up from this nightmare. Still, Onya slowly opens her eyes and as they land on the edge of the forest, she smiles in relief. She never thought she’d be glad to find that, she in fact, did not wake up from a very bad dream.

 

For what must be hundreds of warriors, of all shapes and sizes, on horses and on foot, with swords and spears and even guns are heading her way. And at the front of the assembly are Octavia and Lincoln, side by side, the coalition’s banner proudly raised.

 

Onya jumps and lands on the ground at once, excitedly waving her arms back and forth.

 

The group halts as the front line finally reaches her.

 

“You are in big trouble, missy,” Octavia raises an eyebrow.

 

“I know, I know. I’ll run laps around the training grounds right when we get back to Polis. But we have to go now, we don’t have much time,” the girl replies, her arms dramatically sweeping widely.

 

Octavia sighs defeatedly, holding her hand out to the girl. “And I’m guessing if I asked you to stay here, you’d just follow anyway.”

 

Onya hoists herself up on the horse behind the warrior expertly, “You guessed correctly. That way,” she points.

 

“Your parents must be the most stubborn people on earth if they’re anything like you.”

 

“You could say that,” she points again, more forcefully this time, “That way.”

 

“Alright, alright,” the horse gallops away and Onya rolls her eyes as she hears Octavia pointlessly shout over her shoulder, “Hold tight, kid.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Onya knows they’ve won this one.

 

As soon as their army spots a number of assassins, some on the ground, some still standing, Octavia practically pushes her off the horse at the edge of the forest, far enough to be out of harm’s way but still close enough to see the action. If the girl wasn’t so quick on her feet, she definitely would’ve been injured from the fall.

 

Her eyes sweep the scene as she crouches behind a bush and sees the Heda’s warriors skillfully cut and slice through the crowd of traitors, immediately forming a circle around their commander and Clarke. Onya moves her head from side to side in an attempt to see around the warriors, trying to maintain her gaze on the two women, backs against each other, weapons still raised, although clearly wobbling on their feet in exhaustion.

 

The blonde sports a long deep gash on the side of her face, blood continuously seeping out down to her neck and clothes. The commander’s normally bronze complexion has taken on a more ashen hue due to new injuries added on top of the old ones. They look undeniably depleted yes, but if Onya had to choose one word to describe the sight, she’d say they look absolutely amazing. Unwaveringly fighting side by side and persistently defying the odds.

 

As if on cue, the sky opens up and pellets of water soak through their bodies, creating a dramatic washed away painting of red and black and brown.

 

Octavia was right to make Onya promise to stay away from the battle. Seeing as there are way too many grown warriors pummeling at each other, she knows she will be keeping that promise this time. But that doesn’t mean she will stay idle.

 

She takes out her slingshot and finds that she still has several tubes remaining. Not wanting to waste another second, the girl skillfully loads one after another and aims for those nearby that she knows for certain aren’t on their side. With the heavy rain now pouring, she doesn’t know how many rounds she had released or if they actually struck anyone and before she could even find her momentum, her hand feels the inside of her pouch, finally empty.

 

She waits impatiently for what seemed like forever to her, when it really only lasted about half an hour more. She dares not move from her position though, only clenching and unclenching her small fists in rhythm of the clashing swords, gasping at all the right times when Clarke or Lexa or even Octavia are cornered.

 

Pretty soon the clanging of weapons and battle cries are replaced by a more deafening sound of men and women crying and whimpering in pain. Fast fighting movements replaced by sluggish pacing on the wet ground. She would’ve found the scene as a whole more traumatic if her eyes weren’t zeroed in on the two women, leaning against each other, Clarke very obviously carrying most of the other woman’s weight, and the commander holding a fist tightly against her stomach.

 

She can’t help herself and before she even registered what she was doing, the girl runs toward their direction and stands in front of them gasping for breath, legs seemingly having a mind of their own.

 

Clarke smiles as she takes in the girl with hair that has turned massive from the rain, hands clinging on her shirt as if not knowing what to do with them, “You okay?”

 

Onya’s quiet for a moment. “I should be asking you that,” she replies softly, eyeing both as if examining their bodies for injuries.

 

“We’re fine, which we have you to thank for,” the commander says, her eyes drooping with every word she utters.

 

The girl can only nod and look away as she sees Clarke pull the brunette more tightly against her, kissing Lexa’s hair affectionately, “Come on, let’s get you a healer,” she hears her say.

 

Not wanting to intrude, she walks away and decides to look for any of her ammo that may not have been used in the battle, although the task seems almost impossible with the muddy ground.

 

Her head must have been down for only minutes when she smiles triumphantly as she finally finds one, only partly hidden by the sticky sludge, squatting as she reaches for it, but then –

 

“ _Get me a fucking healer, now_!”

 

Her gaze snaps back to where she had just left the two women standing upright, now on the ground. The commander on her back and the blonde hovering over her, pressing a piece of a fabric that has quickly turned black against the brunette’s stomach.

 

She’s frozen in place, hand still outstretched for the forgotten ammo. The commander murmurs something inaudible. But she hears Clarke, loud and clear. Hysterical and broken.

 

“ _I don’t want the next commander. I want you.”_

Her hand finally touches the ammo, picking up the weapon distractedly. Not noticing that she had touched the pointy end until she feels a tingly feeling starting from her thumb.

_Well that wasn’t very wise,_ she chastises herself as she gently lays on her side, knowing what’s about to happen.

 

“No, no, no,” Onya mutters out loud, or in her head, she doesn’t know. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”

 

As her vision blurs and she slowly succumbs to sleep, she catches the words she had hoped to never hear again.

 

 

“ _In peace may you leave the shore..._

_…In love may you find the next..."_

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reached 400 kudos! Wow!


	14. Fourteen

 

 

It’s her fault.

 

It must have happened during one of the many times Lexa had to step in and keep Clarke from getting obliterated during the attack. That time Clarke dropped her weapon and a woman came charging at her and Lexa intervened before the blonde could be cut in half. Or maybe when a man choked her from behind waving a knife around and Lexa had to knock his head with the butt of her sword. Or perhaps when another warrior had her on her back, a deadly looking blade raised, ready to be plunged into her heart and Lexa tackled him at the last moment and they ended up pummeling at each other on the ground.

 

It could’ve been any of those times.

 

Clarke has been repeating the battle in her mind for hours trying to make sense of what happened. Trying to imagine the many scenarios that could’ve happened differently. Trying to hate herself even more, though she thinks she’s way past that quota.

 

Anything to keep the image of a lifeless Lexa, a fatal wound on her stomach, very much like in her dreams, away. Although there’s no escaping that. Not for a while. Maybe not ever.

 

She looks at her hands and all she sees is black. Blood. So much blood. Lexa’s blood. And she can’t help but rub her hands together and then on her pants until her skin is raw, though she’s washed her hands plenty of times and knows it isn’t there.

 

The tears would come and go. One moment she’d zone out, not a readable expression on her face. And the next, her eyes would swell even more from crying without her noticing.

 

She feels like she’s going fucking insane. And maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing if she completely lost her mind. Maybe it’ll erase all of this. All of the pain.

 

“Clarke?”

 

All of the things she’s done.

 

“Clarke.”

 

All of the minutes permanently ingrained in her mind of the love of her life bleeding out to death right before her.

 

“Clarke,” a voice so far away. She feels a hand on her shoulder. “Clarke, look at me.”

 

And she’s surprised that she does. Even with her eyes practically swollen shut, she sees her mother. And she hasn’t seen her like this in a long time. With a soft expression on her face, looking worried and distressed like mothers do when they see their daughters in pain.

 

Abby places a gentle hand on her chin, eyeing the side of her face, “Let me change that for you.”

 

The blonde moves her head away, “No.”

 

“The bandage is soaked. I need to change it,” Abby says, taking on a more professional tone, though still soft. Still calm.

 

Clarke doesn’t answer, only continues on staring.

 

“The blood is seeping through. You wouldn’t want Lexa to wake up and seeing your face bloody.”

 

And that finally perks her ears up. She looks at her mother then and nods. _Damn she’s good_ , she thinks.

 

“Face this way,” Abby requests, holding her chin gently again as Clarke looks at Lexa’s sleeping form on their bed. She’s been counting the rise and fall of her chest up to one hundred, and then starts over again. She thinks she’s probably up to a bajillion by now if she adds them all up.

 

Her mother was luckily already in Polis by the time they arrived, along with several other Skaikru. Lexa was barely even breathing then. Which was miraculous considering it completely stopped on the battlefield for minutes. Clarke doesn’t know how it happened. One moment the commander’s heartbeat completely ceased, the blonde’s face was buried on her lover’s neck, and then the brunette gasped very very faintly. But Clarke heard it. Felt it along with her newly revived pulse. It was weak, barely there. But it was there. The commander hung on to that all the way back to Polis. As if her spirit was saying, _no I’m not quite done with this one yet_.

 

“Clarke, face this way,” Abby says again, sighing at her daughter who so obviously doesn’t want to look away.

 

“Okay,” she finally complies, moving her chair only inches from the bed so she is facing her mother instead. She reaches out blindly to take her lover’s hand for a moment though and slides it down her wrist to feel the pulse there, strong and steady now thankfully. And she keeps her hand on Lexa’s wrist, as if the physical contact alone is the only thing tethering her to reality. This incredible reality that Lexa’s still alive.

 

She follows her mother’s eyes, tracing the side of her face. From the bottom of her right ear down to the left side of her throat. Clarke doesn’t remember how she got it, but then again, she didn’t exactly feel it until very recently when the adrenaline had passed. She knows it’ll leave one hell of a scar though.

 

But nothing compared to how her heart suffers.

 

The mother and daughter don’t speak for minutes, only staring at each other, even after Abby touches her cheek gently to let her know the bandage has been replaced. She hasn’t had a good relationship with her mother lately. When her father was alive, Clarke was always so much closer to him than she was with her. She never talked to her about crushes or first kisses or anything like that. But this is different. And she needs her more than anything right then.

 

“I love her, mom,” Clarke utters, breathing out heavily at the confession as her fingers stroke Lexa’s wrist. Her mother isn’t the biggest fan of the commander after all.

 

Abby sighs, tucking the blonde’s hair behind her ear tenderly, “I know, honey. I know.”

 

Abby scoots forward from her chair and puts her arms around her, and she can’t help but grasp her back tightly even if it meant letting go of Lexa’s hand. Clarke rests her head on her shoulder, tears steadily streaming down her face now. And she feels like a little kid again, sobbing to her mother. But it feels right and it feels good being held by the woman who has known her the longest and god did she need this.

 

“Lexa’s going to be okay,” her mother says quietly in her ear, to which she only nods, closing her eyes more tightly. “You picked a really strong woman, with a strong heart, and an even stronger will to live. She’s too stubborn to ever leave you, Clarke.”

 

Clarke chuckles lightly, loosening her hold before letting her arms dangle on her sides. She looks at Lexa again and touches her hand, “Yeah, she is.”

 

She doesn’t turn her head even when the door to their room opens, only starts to count the rise and fall of Lexa’s chest again.

 

Only when she hears the girl’s name that she finally does, “Onya’s awake,” Octavia says, standing at the foot of the bed, looking visibly uncomfortable being in her commander’s private quarters.

 

“Who’s that?” Abby asks.

 

“She’s my second. Persistent little girl who doesn’t know how to follow orders,” Octavia says irritably. “But she’s a good kid. And she’s finally awake,” she repeats in relief. “She’s been asking to see you guys.”

 

“I can check on her,” Abby gets up from her chair.

 

“I’ll come with you, I want to see her too,” Clarke says as she too gets up from her chair, though she pauses for a moment as she looks at Lexa’s sleeping form then at Octavia.

 

“I’ll stay here with her,” Octavia assures, “Take a radio, I’ll call you if anything changes.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke walks along the hall next to her mother absentmindedly toward her old room. Onya had been placed there after she was found unconscious on the battlefield. Clarke’s hand has been playing with the tube-like ammo in her sweater pocket ever since she found it near the girl, the needle ripped off for good reasons. It’s clear and cleverly attached to a round base, light enough to aim far if needed, but heavy enough to hit its target accurately. No one has ever seen such a thing before, not even her mom.

 

She definitely plans to ask the girl where it came from. Perhaps it can even shed some light on her past that no one seems to know about.

 

Her agenda is quickly forgotten though once she opens the door and finds an adorable small lump under the covers, wild brown hair peeking out of from above, the only thing hinting that there’s someone actually someone underneath.

 

The girl opens her eyes at once as footsteps come near the bed, focusing on her new visitors. She meets Clarke’s eyes briefly and looks at Abby, a small gasp escaping her mouth.

 

Abby doesn’t notice however, and proceeds to make her way to the side of the bed, doctor’s kit in one hand, a friendly smile on her face, “Hi I’m Abb…”

 

Clarke watches from a few feet away, eyebrows furrowing as Onya practically jumps up from her position to wrap her arms around her mother for a long moment. She supposes it could be the sedative or the traumatic experience the poor girl just went through that may be clouding her judgement, thinking Abby is someone she might know.

 

But then, “I miss you,” Onya mutters oh so softly, it can barely even be heard. The girl’s eyes are closed and arms still circled around Abby’s waist, whose initial shock at the action has worn off, drops her kit to the floor with a thud to embrace the girl more tightly.

 

Abby can do nothing but chuckle as they finally pull apart. She doesn’t know who the hell this child is but who is she to refuse a hug from a little girl.

 

Onya peeks her head around Abby, “Heda?”

 

“Oh umm, she’s fine. Uhh…stable,” Clarke stammers, shaking her head. “Right mom? Um…this is my mom,” she gestures to the woman uselessly.

 

“Oh,” the girl sits on the bed, hands on her lap, “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you too, Onya,” Abby smiles affectionately, “I hear you were unconscious for a little while there. I’m here to check your vitals, just to make sure everything’s good.”

 

Onya doesn’t say a word, only opens her mouth widely and sticks out her tongue that got another chuckle out of Abby.

 

“Is your face okay?” the girl asks as a blood pressure monitor is wrapped around her arm.

 

Clarke sits on the edge of the bed next to Onya, “Yeah, just a scratch.”

 

A hand a lot smaller than Clarke’s, already callused from training at such a young age, touches the blonde’s chin softly near the slash.

 

“Not just a scratch,” her mother intervenes.

 

“Just a scratch,” the blonde repeats, smiling at the girl conspiringly, tapping the child’s hand still touching her face.

 

“Can I see her?” Onya asks.

 

And Clarke doesn’t have to ask if she’s referring to Lexa. “I’ll have someone come get you when she’s awake, I promise.”

 

Onya holds up her pinky and Clarke instinctively wraps her own around the tiny thing. “I promise,” she repeats.

 

They’re interrupted by a knock, followed by a guard poking his head through the partly open door, “Wanheda, someone requests your audience.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your prisoner,” he replies at once.

 

Once she gathers her wits, Clarke gets up with a sigh and swiftly walks out of the room. Before she could completely close the door behind her though, she smiles as she hears Abby ask the girl, “Do you know who you remind me of?”

 

Clarke thinks she already knows the answer to that one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There are so many things she wants to say.

 

Lexa had already filled her in on the traitors’ motivation. Clarke understands.

 

There have been so many deaths on all sides just this past year alone. Prior to the coalition, a number of clans were at war with each other for so long that they don’t even recall how it started in the first place. But this is fresh. Personal. And though she thinks and hopes she herself would not have gone to this extremity, Clarke is learning and accepting that despite their many similarities, all the other clans have a very different set of ways they’ve been following for almost a century before the Arkers even arrived.

 

Still she wants to know, wants to hear it coming from her mouth. _Why?_

 

Clarke mentally prepares what she’s going to say as she makes her way to the underground prison. She takes a deep breath as she reaches the end of the stairs and a long corridor of cells are in sight. There are no windows, no natural light, only a few torches lining up the walls lighting up the grim place. It’s quiet, save for the few whimpers and soft cries that she guesses are coming from warriors that haven’t fully recovered from the battle. Those who didn’t lose their lives during the recent attack have been imprisoned in the commander’s tower, awaiting judgement for once Lexa fully recovers.

 

Clarke dares not look inside the individual cells as she passes them, though from her peripheral, she makes out more or less the same expression each prisoner has as she comes to view. Abhorrence. They _loathe_ her. And she wishes she doesn’t care. Wishes she can be as confident as how she must look on the outside. When in reality, the blonde’s thoughts echo theirs. _I hate me too_.

 

She comes to a stop at the end of the corridor, the last cell to her left where she knows Riva is. The woman is more than ready for her it seems, face practically wedged in between the shafts and hands clutching the irons bars tightly.

 

“Wanheda,” she greets sarcastically.

 

Clarke nods in response. They regard each other quietly for a moment, neither knowing how to steer the conversation.

 

“Were we ever friends?” Clarke wills herself not to wince at her words. That definitely was not in her plan to ask _that_.

 

Riva scoffs, black braids swaying as she breaks eye contact for the first time. And Clarke thinks she’s about to be ridiculed for her genuine curiosity. She is surprised to find out otherwise. “Yes,” the woman replies, meeting the blonde’s eyes once again. “I can see why the Heda chose you. You have determination. Same as me. Which is why I know you know my reasons for what I did.”

 

_I do_ , she wants to say. “It didn’t have to come to this. We could have figured something out…”

 

“Do you think if I asked nicely, please commander, kill those who have murdered my family, avenge those who have lost their loved ones, she would have?”

 

_No_ , she wants to answer. “But now it’s done. Your rebellion caused more lives to be lost. You led people to their deaths and in this prison.”

 

“You think I led… you think I’m the leader?” Riva gasps softly. “Oh, Clarke. You have so much to learn. You give me more credit than I deserve.” She tilts her head to the side, clearly amused that she knows one more thing the great Wanheda doesn’t, “There’s someone more powerful at play here.”

 

“Who?”

 

“I’ll only say if you do one thing for me.”

 

“What do you want?” Clarke asks through gritted teeth. She’s quickly growing impatient.

 

“Do you want to kill me?”

 

_Yes_ , a part of her wants to admit. “That’s irrelevant.”

 

“It’d be easy,” the woman eyes the knife strapped to Clarke’s leg. She hasn’t gone anywhere without it since they got back to Polis. No guards even dared ask her to. “One slit across my throat,” she says, head tilted upward to show just where.

 

“What?” the blonde’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

 

“I’ll tell you who it is if you promise to kill me.”

 

“That’s not our way anymore…”

 

“I’m tired,” Riva slumps her shoulders. “I told you I have determination. And I won’t stop trying to seek justice until my fight is over. And I’m exhausted, Clarke. Kill me,” she pleads, knuckles turning white as her hands grasp the iron bars harder.

 

“That’s not for me to decide.”

 

“And if we’re going with our beloved commander’s _jus drein no jus daun_ _,_ I’ll live. One way or another, I’ll get out of here. And I won’t stop,” she repeats. “This will never end.”

 

“I’m not going to do that,” Clarke practically shouts. Yes, she wants to make this woman suffer for doing what she did to Lexa. For almost taking her away from Clarke forever. But it isn’t who she is or at least it isn’t who she wants to be.

 

Riva nods, “Then I wish you the best of luck, Wanheda.” She unclasps a necklace from around her neck and holds it out for Clarke to take. “But I assure you this isn’t the first and last time this will happen. We will meet again.”

 

She retreats to the corner of the cell to lay down, back facing the blonde. Clarke stands unmoving for minutes until she finally finds the urge to walk away.

 

She makes her way to the commander’s quarters, head down in deep though. She’s still reeling from the eerie conversation with her former attendant. Because who could she be talking about that led to Lexa’s imprisonment and the battle that almost killed her? There’s too many possibilities at this point, she doesn’t even know where to start.

 

Her head crashes onto a familiar surface and she looks up to find Titus, just as irritated as her. “You really need to pay attention to your surroundings, Wanheda.”

 

“Or maybe don’t just stand there in the middle of the hallway next time,” she replies with a bite.

 

“I wish to see Heda,” he says, lifting his head with a false sense of confidence. Clarke had set up guards all around the commander’s quarters who have explicit instructions not to let the flamekeeper anywhere near. She’s surprised that they actually followed her orders.

 

“Well she still hasn’t woken. Thanks to _you_ ,” she points and jabs a finger on his chest.

 

“A few rogue traitors wanting to exact revenge is hardly my fault.”

 

“If _you_ just believed me and sent an army toward where she was, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

 

“And if you and your clan weren’t here, there wouldn’t be anyone threatening to kill her.” He clasps his hands behind his back, “I wouldn’t be too comfortable walking around Polis if I were you.”

 

She steps even closer to him, fists clenched on her sides, “Is that a threat? Because if it is, I assure you I’m more than ready for it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a commander to see and take care of.”

 

She walks around his threatening stature, and as if on cue, the radio in her hand makes a crackling noise.

 

“Clarke,” is all she needed to hear before she breaks into a run.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke opens the door quietly just in case Lexa has fallen back asleep from the time she received the call at the bottom floor of the tower. The commander was injected with a pretty good amount of sedatives after all.

 

She expected her mother to be standing over Lexa, a doctor’s chart on her hand while she asks multiple questions of how her patient is doing. And Clarke imagined the commander replying with as little words as possible coupled with too many sighs and exaggerated eye rolls.

 

Not this.

 

Clarke comes to a stop as she enters the room and watches as Abby, sitting at the edge of the bed, holds Lexa’s hand, rubbing it absentmindedly. They talk in low voices but Clarke is pretty sure she catches her name mentioned between the two. Lexa finally turns her head with a tired smile, as if she knew Clarke had been there the whole time.

 

“Looks like you guys have a lot of catching up to do,” Abby gets up from her position. “I’ll just rest for a couple of hours across the hall. Just call if you need me or if there’s too much pain and you need more medication,” she points to a radio on the nightstand. She looks at Lexa pointedly, “Remember what we talked about.”

 

Lexa looks as if she’s fighting to roll her eyes. She blinks several times and manages a tight nod.

 

Abby touches Clarke’s shoulder on her way out where the blonde is still standing near the doorway, “And you – you need to get some rest too.”

 

“I will, mom,” Clarke whines.

 

“Alright alright, I was just saying.”

 

She fidgets with her shirt, still unmoving from her spot even when the door has clicked shut.

 

“Do we have prisoners?” the commander asks after a few moments of silence.

 

“Yes, just waiting for now, for when you fully recover.”

 

Lexa nods. “Why are you so far away?” she asks quietly.

 

Clarke doesn’t know why. Perhaps it’s because she blames herself that Lexa almost died. Maybe because she’s afraid that this is another one of life’s cruel joke and Lexa being alive, talking to her is all just a dream. If it is, Clarke doesn’t want it to go away, would happily live in this lucid dream forever. She wants to pinch herself but forces herself to move a few slow steps toward the brunette instead.

 

And when Lexa doesn’t disappear, only continues on eyeing her curiously, she finally makes it to the side of the bed.

 

“What was that about?” she asks, hands still fiddling with a hole on the front of her shirt.

 

“Just your mom, saying mom things.”

 

_This is real_ , Clarke thinks. She smiles in amusement. “Yeah? Like what?”

 

“She said she is glad that I am alive. But that she’ll kill me if I hurt you, or something along those lines. I told her I’d like to see her try.”

 

Clarke laughs lightly this time, “You didn’t actually say that, did you?”

 

“No,” Lexa smiles, though she’s still puzzled as to why Clarke hasn’t stepped closer when all she’s been wanting to do ever since she woke up is to kiss her over and over again.

 

“Thanks for trying to appease her.”

 

“She’s the only family you have left, Clarke. Of course I’ll try.”

 

The blonde is quiet for a long moment as she stares back at the commander, tears suddenly threatening to fall. “You’re my family as far as I’m concerned,” she utters quietly.

 

Lexa gasps softly. _Family_ , Clarke says. She’s her family. Lexa hasn’t had anyone to call that in a very long time. She thinks back to the short years that she had, and what it was like. And yes, in every sense of the word, Clarke _is_ her family. The commander swallows audibly, reaching for the blonde’s hand that’s still not within her arm’s reach.

 

Clarke finally sits down and places her hand on Lexa’s outstretched one, raising it a little to kiss her bruised and battered knuckles. _This is definitely real,_ she thinks as tears finally fall. “You’re my home,” she chokes out.

_Home_ , Clarke says. It isn’t Polis like she first thought it was. It’s _her_. Lexa’s her _home_. And she’s never heard anyone refer to another person as that. But if it’s anything as she imagines it to mean, finding that sense of peace in the middle of chaos, being consumed by love in the midst of a war, then yes, Clarke is her home too. Lexa tightens her grip on Clarke’s hand in response, not knowing what to say, though her heart is jumping for joy. She hasn’t had a home in a long time either.

 

“And I almost lost you,” Clarke whispers. She moves closer then, brushing the brunette’s unbraided hair, “And I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll do better.”

 

“Clarke,” she calls, “Ai hodnes, this isn’t your fault.” Her heart breaks at the thought of Clarke punishing herself all this time.

 

“It kind of is.”

 

“No, it isn’t,” Lexa touches her cheek gently, thumb brushing away the tears that won’t stop. “It. Isn’t. Your. Fault.” she repeats. And Lexa wishes at that moment that any kind of movement didn’t hurt her still healing body. There’s nothing else she wants to do but wrap her arms around Clarke. To ease her pain. To protect her. _Her family. Her home._

 

The blonde sighs, kissing Lexa’s hand still resting on her face. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

 

_You’d be fine, you’d live a long happy life without me_ , Lexa almost wants to say. “You wouldn’t have to know. I’m here, Clarke. I’m here.”

 

Clarke smiles at her words. Because she’s here. Lexa’s _here_. “Do you need anything? Water? Are you hungry? I can ask someone to fix something up.”

 

“Nothing else. Just you,” the brunette replies with a yawn. “Can you lay down with me?”

 

“Of course,” Clarke replies, already moving the furs to slide underneath. She lays on her side, rubbing Lexa’s arm as she falls back asleep.

 

“Is your face okay?” she asks with her eyes closed.

 

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. I’ll have a big ugly scar though.”

 

“Not ugly,” Lexa mumbles. “Still beautiful. Always beautiful.”

 

Clarke chuckles lightly, “Okay, enough of that. Goodnight, babe. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke wakes at the sound of the door opening and a light thud of footsteps coming toward the bed. She already knows who it is without opening her eyes.

 

“You said you’d come get me once she wakes up,” Onya whispers in her ear.

 

The blonde turns her head to look at the girl, wearing one of Clarke’s shirts that’s practically a dress on her, and pants too long they cover her feet completely while the rest of the material drags along on the hardwood floor.

 

“Sorry, she was only awake for a little bit,” Clarke whispers back, looking at Lexa who is thankfully a heavy sleeper with the right dosage of medication. She looks at Onya’s companion and waves at her friend, eyes flitting back and forth between the three with a look of curiosity.

 

“Octavia had me babysit her. But she’s been whining about coming here so I took her just to shut her up,” Raven says quietly.

 

“I don’t need a babysitter. And I don’t whine,” Onya retorts. Raven just shrugs as she eyes the expanse of the room until they focus on the three again.

 

Onya climbs over Clarke’s body and carefully wedges herself between the two women, making herself at home as she sits down and takes Lexa’s hand to feel for a pulse.

 

The blonde moves to stand up, not wanting to intrude on the girl’s mission to do a full body check up on the commander. She crosses her arms as Onya places a finger on Lexa’s upper lip, nodding as she feels three full exhales of breath. She purses her lips when Onya lays her head gently on the brunette’s chest, hearing the strong heartbeat. Before Clarke could even protest at whatever else the girl plans on doing, Onya sits at the edge of the bed and nods, as if they all passed a test of keeping the commander alive.

 

“Good?” Clarke raises an eyebrow.

 

“Good,” Onya replies.

 

“Holy shit,” Raven exclaims loudly.

 

“Raven! Please don’t yell,” Clarke hisses. “And watch your mouth.”

 

“Sorry. Holy shirt,” she repeats more quietly, looking at the two women and then at Onya before focusing on Lexa and Clarke again.

 

“What is it?” Clarke asks, already moving toward the door to get both of them out of the room immediately before they wake up Lexa.

 

“So I thought earlier when I first met her - this little nugget looks a lot like Lexa but then I was like, hmm no she looks like Clarke. And then I said, nah, definitely Lexa. Then, I go, actually Clarke, yes Clarke.”

 

“Okay, I get the picture. What’s your point?” Clarke questions impatiently as she shuts the door to the commander’s room.

 

“Well,” Raven turns her head to eye the girl. Clarke does the same. “She’s actually like a creepy fu… forking mix of you two. Like a test tube Clarke and Lexa baby.”

 

The girl rolls her eyes at that, turning around to make her way toward Clarke’s room near the end of the hall.

 

“Ow! What was that for?” Raven rubs her arm, already reddening from Clarke smacking it.

 

“You pissed her off.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Onya doesn’t bother closing the door to Clarke’s room when she enters. She knows she’ll be followed anyway. And she knows who it will be.

 

She stands by the window, looking out into the city she loves. There’s barely anyone out in the streets now. Understandably so, as it’s way past dinner time and people will be resting for the night soon. Or perhaps it’s the chill in the air that signifies winter is almost upon them that’s keeping them indoors. Or maybe because there’s another threat to the commander’s life that could harm them in turn. It could be any of these reasons, but Onya’s fairly sure it’s mostly because of the last one.

 

“Sorry about that. Raven just doesn’t know when to stop talking sometimes,” Clarke says a few feet away behind the girl.

 

Onya looks back and manages a small smile before it disappears just as fast. “What are you going to do with the prisoners?” she asks, hands clutching the windowsill.

 

“They’re awaiting judgement for when the commander fully recovers,” Clarke replies, her left hand fidgeting with the clear tube inside her sweater pocket.

 

“Yeah, but what’re you going to _do_?” the girl sighs, fully turning her body to face Clarke. “When she does recover, what’s going to happen to them?”

 

“I…I don’t know,” the blonde replies honestly. She supposes they’d be banished just as Emerson was. Or imprisoned for an extended period of time. That’s the way things are now, right? “That’s for the commander to decide.”

 

“You have to kill them,” Onya whispers.

 

“What?” Clarke gasps, hand in her pocket completely still now.

 

“They have to be killed,” she repeats louder, eyes unblinking.

 

“And I told you, that’s for the commander to decide.”

 

The girl scoffs, eyes sweeping the floor for a moment. Clarke is surprised to find them wet with unshed tears as Onya meets her gaze again. “Did you do this? Were they right?” her chest suddenly heaving, “You were the reason for _jus drein no jus daun_?”

 

Clarke doesn’t answer, only manages to open and close her mouth several times.

 

“You did,” the girl breathes out, looking away again in disbelief. “They need to die. They threatened the commander’s life. And they need to die,” she mumbles almost to herself. _I was right, this is where it started_ , she thinks to herself.

 

“Why are you saying this?”

 

“She almost died.”

 

“And she didn’t. You saw her. She’ll be fine…”

 

“She won’t be fine!” the girl exclaims. “Do you really think this is the last time something like this happens? Do you really think they’ll stop? Why aren’t you listening to me? You _never_ listen to me,” she angrily wipes the tears on her face that have fallen without her noticing.

 

“Who are you?” the blonde takes one step closer to Onya, whose hunched shoulders shake with emotion.

 

“They think her weak,” she cries. “And they’ll keep doing this over and over again.”

 

“Who are you?” Clarke whispers, heartrate elevated now for some reason she can’t quite understand. She takes a few more slow steps until she comes face to face with the girl.

 

Onya stares up at Clarke with tear-stained face, breathing ragged, and lips quivering uncontrollably. “And then she’ll die,” she chokes out.

 

“Who are you?” Clarke drops to her knees with a thud, eyes brimming with tears at the sight of the girl in such distress and all of the disturbing things she’s saying.

 

“And she won’t be there. And she’ll leave us. And it will all be your fault,” she howls.

 

“Who are you?” the blonde asks for the final time as she wraps the girl in her arms firmly, who instantly grasps her back just as hard. Onya tucks her head in the crook of her neck, small hands gripping her shoulders, still murmuring incoherent words.

 

Clarke closes her eyes with a gasp as she tightens her embrace.

 

For in the midst of the string of words, she hears one that she thinks she has suspected all along.

 

 

“ _Mom…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally have been waiting for forever to write that last scene! You guys are smart. 
> 
> My favorite part of this is Lexa's inner thoughts: "She hasn't had a home in a long time either." 
> 
> I make myself fucking barf sometimes.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE DON'T YOU WORRY
> 
> You know how sometimes when life happens, and you just don't have a lot of free time to do a whole lot of extra things? Life is definitely happening right now.
> 
> BUT this is my baby ---

 

 

_“I love you, little one,” Lexa whispered as she crouched, hands rubbing the girl’s arms as she comes to eye level with her._

_The commander’s eyes looked glassy against the few torches flicking in the underground passage.  “Remember what we talked about. You are strong. And brave. And good. Not just good,” she paused with a sad smile. “The best. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and your mom.”_

_Onya nodded, though she couldn’t quite fully understand what they were doing in a barely lit passage. Her nomon took her on a hunting trip. The first one they have taken in a while. And they were supposed to be hunting, not hiding._

_Even at a young age of seven summers though, the girl was intuitive enough to know that something was very wrong. Something was always wrong it seemed. In fact, even her very first memory of what was supposed to be a happy celebration held for her day of birth in her early years had been tainted with chaos. Stained with fear._

_The girl vividly remembered waking up in the middle of the night, peacefully laying on her back on her small bed after the tiring festivities and seeing an unfamiliar face staring back at her. Unsettling gray eyes meeting hers. And just as quickly, they were replaced by both of her parents’ alarmed ones. Onya later learned that she rarely cried as a babe. And the only reason Clarke and Lexa came in that night with their weapons readily drawn was because of the girl’s unusual wail. Before anything could happen though, the assailant had fled the scene. Nowhere to be found after._

_As young as she was, she could still remember those eyes. They still penetrated her mind every now and then. And though she couldn’t recall the face they belonged to, she swore she’d recognize them the moment they met again._

_The very next day after the incident, Clarke and Lexa moved her room directly next to theirs, tearing down a part of the wall so that a door could be attached that was accessible from their own quarters. That was the first time the girl could fully recall sensing that there would never be a time that everything was right._

_There was always something every few unexpected years it seemed. And more frequently these days. As if whoever was behind it all had gotten bolder and stronger. While Onya watched her parents grow more weary and even more protective._

_She touched the commander’s face gently, hoping to give any kind of comfort, “What’s happening?”_

_“They’re coming,” Lexa answered. She was never one to hide things from her daughter to protect her. And once she sensed that they were being followed, confirmed by the guards she had brought, the two made their way down the first crumbling building in sight, guards at the entrance to give them time. “I’m going to hold them off – and you’re going to run until you reach the end of this tunnel.”_

_“Where will I go?”_

_“We’re closest to the mountain. Make sure to hide your tracks. Go there and call your mom. Tell her where we are,” Lexa replied more rapidly._

_A research facility had been built from the ground up where Mount Weather was situated, and it was guarded and secured by the commander’s most trusted people. If she had to take a chance on where she thought Onya would be the safest besides Polis, she’d choose that._

_“Why don’t you just come with me?” the girl asked, almost in tears._

_“Onya…”_

_“I don’t want to go without you. Please just come with me,” small hands grasping the commander’s face more desperately._

_“If they don’t find me, they’ll keep following us.”_

_“But…”_  
  


_“It’s not safe for you,” the Heda said in a commanding tone. “It’s not safe for you,” she repeated more softly, tucking Onya’s hair behind her ear. “So no more questions, Onya, please.”_

_The girl nodded again, turning her head to look at the dark hallway she would be using._

_“Tell your mom that I love her…and,” Lexa started to say._

_Onya quickly looked at the other direction as she heard loud footsteps from the top of the concrete steps. Heavy footsteps. Too many heavy footsteps that matched the sudden pounding in her chest._

_The commander kissed her forehead, “And that I might be late for dinner,” she finished. “Go,” she whispered, gripping her sword more tightly as she stood up._

_Onya only waited a moment before she complied, squeezing her nomon’s free hand before facing the dark corridor._

_And then she moved as fast as she could, rounding the corner before the men in pursuit of them even came to view._

_She ran in the barely lit tunnel as she heard loud echoes of clashing swords._

_She ran as she heard the commander’s fighting grunts and shouts._

_She ran as those shouts turned to overpowered cries of pain._

_She ran even as the cries were reduced to faint whimpers, reverberating down the suddenly stifling corridor. And even when those too faded, replaced by a complete dreadful silence._

_She ran through the forest with tears steadily streaming down her face, silently apologizing to her nomon for breaking her promise and not hiding her tracks very well just as she was asked to._

_She ran until she reached the gates of Mount Weather, where the guards let her in without a second glance, making sure that one would radio her mom in Polis to tell her what had happened._

_She ran to where she knew the contraption was supposed to be. Where she wasn’t allowed to go. Where she had been told that there would be grave consequences if she even looked at it without permission._

_Even with her feet solidly planted to the metal floor, her body buzzed uncontrollably along with her mind, quickly counting the years in her head. She took a deep breath as shaky hands press the buttons, hoping she was guessing correctly._

_Where it all or started, or rather_ when _._

_And when she roused several disorienting hours later, Onya found herself in a pile of rubble where she knew Mount Weather was situated only a little after it was blown up to pieces._

_Where it all started._ When _it all started._

It worked _, Onya gasped triumphantly._

_Tired of running, the girl kept her pace slow. Hoping to save the commander. Hoping to save them all._

_Hoping to live in a world where they can finally,_ finally _stop running._

 

* * *

 

 

Of all the jokes life has thrown at her, Clarke thinks this one takes the cake of being the most cruel one by far.

 

She wants to laugh at the irony of it all. How for the longest time, she blamed her mother for her father’s death. And now Onya, her own…daughter doing the same. If this is how Abby felt, then Clarke thinks she has a lot of apologizing to do.

 

For she feels absolutely broken.

 

Broken for the girl who just wants nothing more but to keep both of her parents alive. Who has accomplished the impossibility of traveling through time to keep her family together. Whose childhood innocence had been ruthlessly stolen with no chance of getting it back.

 

She feels broken for the woman who has done so much for her people and who will do whatever it takes for the greater good. Who longs to love and be loved freely without fear of retaliation just like everyone else. Who has given Clarke the incredible gift of solace and pure warmth she never thought was possible.

 

She feels broken for the innocent people who have died fighting for what they believed in. And for the loved ones they suddenly left behind, forced to pick up their shattered selves only to keep living in a cycle of war and grief.

 

And if she’s being honest, Clarke feels broken for herself. For loving and failing. For not doing all the right things all the time. And for just once in her life, wanting and willing to be selfish to keep everyone she cares about alive, no matter the cost.  

 

The blonde fights another round of tears as she now sits on the floor with Onya cradled on her lap, still protectively supporting her head and rubbing her back gently. The girl tired herself out from crying so much that she fell asleep even as she mumbled more words against her neck. They were unintelligible words at that point. But Clarke thinks she knows what the girl wanted to say anyway.

 

She closes her eyes tightly and kisses Onya’s head. Though her mouth had been firmly shut ever since the amazing revelation, save for the few astonished gasps and sobs in between, all she wants to say back is, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_. A million times over if she could. For her past wrong-doings, and evidently for many more future ones.

 

She slowly gets up from her sitting position so as to not disturb the girl’s slumber and briefly looks at her bed. She doesn’t have it in her to leave Onya by herself and decides instantly on just where to take her.

 

Onya isn’t too heavy and the commander’s room is situated on the same floor, thankfully. The guards don’t ask why Wanheda is carrying the girl in her arms. By the look on her face, they’re smart not to, and they open the doors without a word or a second glance.

 

She carefully places the girl next to Lexa, gently disentangling small hands clutched around her neck. She can’t help but smile even as the next round of tears finally come as she looks at both of them, side by side, peaceful expressions on their faces for once.

 

Clarke has never seen anything more beautiful.

 

She eyes their similar facial structures, the high cheekbones and chiseled jawline she always tells Lexa is the one thing she envies the most. The commander would only scoff in response, softly pinching Clarke’s cheeks with a genuine smile despite the blonde’s glare, charmingly saying _your face is my favorite face in the entire world_.

 

Their curly brown hair, splayed dramatically across the pillows. Only Lexa’s is more contained from needing to braid it all the time, while Onya likes to keep hers wild and free.

 

Clarke thinks back to the many times she’s noticed the same expressions and mannerisms between the commander and the girl. The brooding faraway look they seem to wear when they are lost in thought. That pout on their lips when feeling displeased. Those hands behind their backs signifying comfort and even authority. Clarke remembers how she felt a bit perturbed but also amused every single time she witnessed these.

 

And then she thinks of Onya’s eyes, the bluest like Jake’s. The bluest like hers. She touches the girl’s chin and chuckles softly. That one’s hers too.

 

This girl is a warrior, and an artist, and is kind-hearted, and beautiful, and perfect, and stubborn. She laughs quietly again. The _most_ stubborn. She’s definitely theirs.

 

_Ours_ , she thinks, _she’s ours._

 

After an exceedingly length of time has passed just staring, Clarke sighs as she pulls the furs more tightly over the pair, opting to sleep on the couch for the night.

 

Not that she’d be doing a lot of that anyway. She needs a plan.

 

Because there’s no way in hell Lexa’s going to die.

 

Over her dead fucking body.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lexa wakes up in excruciating pain. The most unbearable one being her stomach where she was stabbed by a spear during the recent battle.

 

She stifles a grunt as she attempts to sit up, giving up with a huff when her body wouldn’t cooperate. Sighing in defeat, she turns to her right and finds her favorite color of orbs staring back at her.

 

Except…

 

“You’re not Clarke,” smiling at the girl’s sleepy eyes. The same way Clarke’s look like when she first wakes up, Lexa notes.

 

Onya smiles back, “No.”

 

“What’re you doing here, little one?” Lexa asks, not unkindly, but with genuine curiosity. It’s not every day that the commander wakes up next to a trainee she barely knows. Not that she at all minded. In fact, it feels…right somehow. She feels an unexpected delight in seeing the girl. Reasoning she can’t quite comprehend just yet.

 

The girl shrugs, fighting back a smile at the familiar nickname. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m okay,” the commander reassures with another smile.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Yes, but not as much as before. Do you want to see it?” already pulling up her shirt to peel the bandage. The wound is still red and painful but for some reason, Lexa has a feeling that showing it might placate the girl. “See? It’s healing already.”

 

Onya sits up slowly to look more closely, lightly touching the skin surrounding the wound. Lexa can do nothing but let her, eyeing her curiously until the girl finally nods in satisfaction.

 

“I’ll be good as new soon. Now on to more important things,” Lexa says, covering her stomach and straightening her back a little against the mattress. “How’s your footwork going?”

 

The girl grins but frowns immediately. She hasn’t practiced too much in the last several days. She has been too busy trying to make things right and worrying about everyone. “Probably the same. But I will practice as soon as I can,” she promises wholeheartedly.

 

Lexa nods at that, gently and appreciatively, looking every bit as Heda as she would be if she were standing upright. Never has Onya seen or heard of anyone else looking as poised as the commander even while confined to her bed, healing from injuries.

 

“Do you want me to wake her?” Onya gestures to Clarke’s curled up form on the couch after a few moments of witnessing that longing look her parents seem to always have when gazing at each other, whether they are awake or asleep.

 

“No,” she smiles, “Let’s let her get some rest. But could you get Abby for me? She’s just right across the hall. I might need to get this bandage changed soon.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke couldn’t move when she heard the first stir.

 

Clarke couldn’t breathe.

 

What was she thinking placing them on the same bed without first telling Lexa what she had just discovered? Surely, she should have learned by now. Lexa has intuition like a fucking fortune teller.

 

“ _What’re you doing here, little one?”_  she catches, eyes struggling not peek at hearing Lexa’s cheerful morning voice. She’s missed that so much.

 

She thinks back to the many mornings she and Lexa have shared and how nine times out of ten, the only thing that can wake her up from a comfortable slumber on the fur laden bed was the commander’s soothing touch with a smiley _good morning_. Clarke briefly wonders if they will get another morning like that.

 

“ _Do you want to see it?”_ she hears, wanting to berate Lexa for unwrapping the bandage and showing off her still healing wound. Doesn’t she know that it could easily get infected at this stage? Still, the blonde stays in place.

 

“ _Do you want me to wake her?”_ she makes out, fighting back a smile at the sheer cuteness of it all. She imagines Lexa looking at her lovingly like she does when they’re alone, and Onya fighting back an eye roll at the commander’s overt longing to be close to Clarke. And it feels strangely good being free like this in front of a person they don’t know too well yet. Unknowingly familiar.  The most bizarre oxymoron there is if there ever was one, she thinks.

 

The blonde hears the door click shut as Onya leaves the room and doesn’t so much breathe in an attempt keep up her little game. She already knows she’s a terrible actress when it comes to Lexa though.

 

“I know you’re awake,” Lexa says. Clarke imagines that irritating yet enticing knowing tilt on the commander’s lip.

 

No response.

 

“Seriously, Clarke, you can’t fool me.”

 

She is met with silence, save for an exaggerated snort.

 

“Your snores are much louder than that. We’ve been sleeping on the same bed for a while now, Clarke,” Lexa chuckles.

 

The blonde opens one eye, a smile already on her lips even before she makes eye contact with her very alive lover.

 

“I don’t snore.”

 

“Oh? I suppose it’s animals roaming around the tower I hear.”

 

Clarke exhales in relief at that, opening both of her eyes to the sight of Lexa happily watching her. She stands up and walks toward her quickly. She’s just as eager to be next to her after all. “You know you almost died? Why are you this lively so early in the morning?”

 

“Because I’m happy.”

 

“Right…and why is that?”

 

“Because you’re here.”

 

Clarke scoffs with a smile, laying on the mattress facing the commander. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Lexa replies, head facing Clarke. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s hand, rubbing the soft spot next to her thumb.  

 

The two are quiet for a moment as they gaze at each other with small smiles still on their faces, perfectly content in taking each other in after such tumultuous several days they have both gone through. The moment is fleeting for Clarke though as she remembers a very important little detail she has yet to share.

 

“I have to tell you something,” Clarke starts.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Um, so...” she swallows audibly. Where does she start? She can’t exactly just immediately say, _Oh, by the way, Onya’s actually our daughter apparently? How? I have no idea. How is she here? Yeah, no clue on that part either._

 

Lexa watches Clarke’s face contort in discomfort and feels her breathing pattern suddenly turn ragged. She hasn’t got a single clue as to what the blonde plans on saying. Regardless, she squeezes her hand encouragingly, “Can I go first?”

 

“Okay,” Clarke breathes out in relief. It seems that all the practicing in her head the night before on what she would tell Lexa was fruitless.

 

“You were right, Clarke,” Lexa rasps. From the very first moment she woke up, she’d had an epiphany she’s been wanting to share with Clarke. It was quickly forgotten the day before though when the blonde confessed an amazing revelation of her own. _You’re my family, my home_. And it didn’t help that her body sought rest after only being awake for a short length of time. She’s just thankful Clarke is here now to hear it.

 

“Life is about more than just surviving,” grasping Clarke’s hand more firmly now.

 

She remembers the exact moment she knew she might not be okay. When a man holding a spear as tall as him had come charging at an unknowing Clarke, her weapon knocked on the ground and Lexa interfered the very last possible moment. There was an instant when she was terrified she wouldn’t have made it in time to save Clarke. And when the sharp end of the man’s weapon pierced her instead, there was another moment when she was most fearful, almost certain she herself wouldn’t make it at all.

 

Even with chaos surrounding her, Lexa was surprised she felt that way. For the longest time, even before she ascended as a commander, she never once feared death. But at that moment, she was afraid for her people, yes. For Clarke, definitely. But also, well, for herself. For the possibility of missing out on everything life has to offer. For all the adventures she won’t have with Clarke. For all the warm good mornings and good nights she’ll miss. For peace she has yet to fully experience. And for, who knows, maybe someday, even a family.

 

Though she’s elated at Lexa’s words, echoing her very own only moments before the first time they shared a kiss, Clarke can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

 

Because yes, there definitely is more to life than surviving. She whole heartedly believes that. These past months with Lexa have already proven that. From the simple brush of hands when passing each other in the halls that still makes her heart skip a beat to the all-consuming bouts of passion shared in the privacy of their room that ignites her soul. Or even the natural way that Lexa’s arms perfectly fit around her frame when they look out onto the city they both love that gives her a sense of serenity like nothing ever has.

 

But what if Onya’s ominous warning is true? There will come a time they wouldn’t have any of that at all. The girl’s words ring loudly in her head now.

_And then she’ll leave us._

 

Clarke closes her eyes tightly.  

 

_And then she’ll die._

She inhales deeply, hoping to calm her rapidly beating heart.

 

_And it will all be your fault._

 

The blonde exhales, willing her eyes to cooperate and stop the onslaught of tears from falling as she pictures Lexa’s lifeless form. There’s more to life than surviving, she agrees. But right now, survival, Lexa’s survival, will need to take precedence over everything else. Even if it means not having all the extra things outside of it. Clarke opens her eyes to find Lexa’s still on her. She needs to say it, she decides. She needs to say it _now_.

 

“I’ve never been more in love with you, Clarke Griffin.”

 

Clarke gasps softly, forcibly holding her tongue from uttering a word and shoving her thoughts back in her brain for a moment. She couldn’t say anything if she tried anyway. Could only move closer so her whole body is pressed against the other woman’s side. Arm gently snaking over Lexa’s stomach, far enough away from the traumatic wound, chin resting on her shoulder. She’s simply endlessly amazed by Lexa’s ability to make something she says everyday sound completely different and still extraordinary each time. She hums, wordlessly imploring the commander to continue, wanting to hold onto this for as long as she can.

 

“When my spirit leaves,” Lexa says as she leans her head on the blonde’s, chuckling at the grumble she hears, “Which will be a long time from now, I assure you. I want to leave this world not only with peace as my legacy to my people. But also with endless memories of me and you. And I…,” she falters, swallowing audibly despite her suddenly dry mouth, “I want you to be by my side…always. If you want...”

 

Clarke raises her head at that, eyes tracing her lover’s features, “What’re you saying right now?”

 

“I’m just… I’m just saying, if you know, you want to that is,” Lexa stammers, hands gesturing in the air comically.

 

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” she chuckles, fleetingly forgetting her sullen thoughts from earlier.

 

“What? Now you’re not making any sense. I was only saying…” Lexa sighs exasperatedly, eyes following Clarke as the blonde sits up with a smile still on her face. She chuckles as Clarke holds herself up with her hands on both sides of her head and kisses every inch of her face, careful not to touch any other parts of her body that might cause her pain.

 

They stay in that position, laughing and reveling in each other’s presence even though they know the moment is fleeting given their current circumstance. That’s just the way it will always seem to be for them.

 

“Clarke, get off of her!”

 

Lexa has never seen Clarke move as fast as she does at that moment, suddenly sitting up on the other side of the bed with her hands on her lap. She would have laughed and said so, had Abby not been the one standing by the door with her hands on her hips as if she was scolding a child.

 

“Mom, you could have knocked,” she whined.

 

“I did. You were just busy pestering the commander. An injured commander too,” Abby retorts, moving toward the bed.

 

Clarke doesn’t answer as she makes eye contact with the girl standing at the foot of the bed. Onya. Their _daughter_.

 

And just like that, she remembers.

 

“What were you going to tell me?” Lexa asks as Abby cleans her wound gently.

 

She looks at the commander then, not missing the girl’s almost imperceptible shake of head in her peripheral vision.

 

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Nah, that part doesn’t sound right.”

 

“What exactly, Raven? She has said lots of parts,” Clarke slaps her own thighs in frustration.

 

They’re in Clarke’s old room now, the two older women standing, while Onya sits at the edge of the bed, as if in interrogation. They’ve been filling Raven in for what seems like hours now.

 

The brunette pulls up a chair and sits in front of Onya, crossing her arms and leaning back, “Start from the beginning again.”

 

“Some members of different clans have a long-standing hatred toward the Skaikru. They think the commander favors them too much so…”

 

“No, not that. The other thing.”

 

The girl tilts her head up to look at the ceiling and sighs in annoyance. “They took my mom’s and nomon’s eggs and then…” she starts monotonously.

 

“No, not that. That part makes sense. I’ve heard talks about starting experimentations with that. And you literally look exactly like Clarke and Lexa, it’s kiiiind of freaky. Act like them too. Sassy and bossy and…”

 

Clarke shakes her head. Her friend has a tendency to go on long pointless tirades. Which is mainly why they’ve been sitting in her room for a long time now. “Well, what did you want to hear again?”

 

Raven looks at the blonde for a moment, and then back at the girl, “How did you get here?”

 

“Like I said earlier, you and a few others had been working on it and finally finished it before I was even born. It’s top secret and no one had used it until this past year when they really needed to. We can go back in time and back again. Only a special group of people can use it for finding out more information about the locations of nuclear power plants and containing them if possible and…” Onya pauses as she looks at the women who are staring at her blankly, “Look it’s a whole thing, it’s being taken care of and we don’t have time for that right now.”

 

“Huh. I mean I know I’m brilliant and all, but I’m even impressed with myself right now for making that work,” the brunette grins. “Okay, so where’s this _‘time machine’_ you speak of?” Raven asks.

 

The girl looks down on the floor and swings her dangling legs, “Um so…”

 

Clarke tilts her head to the side, “What?”

 

“I don’t exactly know.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t _exactly_ know?” the blonde exclaims.

 

Onya keeps her eyes trained on her bare feet and speaks slowly, “Well… there are limitations to it. We aren’t supposed to go too far back in time when the machine hadn’t been created yet. So when I arrived here, it was nowhere to be found.”

 

“You mean…?” Ravens leans forward.

 

“I mean I’m stuck here…until it’s finished. Which won’t be years from now,” the girl slowly lifts her head up, daring to look at the two women. She instantly regrets it as she sees Clarke’s flaring nostrils. She’s definitely pissed.

 

“What were you _thinking_?” Clarke whispers loudly, though she definitely wants to scream.

 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry! I was scared, I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Clarke starts pacing back and forth with her eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose. It’s one problem after another it seems. “And we also still don’t know who’s trying to kill Lexa?”

 

“No…it’s a group of people from different clans. There doesn’t seem to be a known leader,” the girl replies.

 

Before she could stop herself, Clarke pauses and asks what has been in the back of her head this whole time. “What happened? How did she…?” she trails off. She has been torn in both wanting to know and not know the answer to that.

 

Onya tilts her head downward again, forcibly closing her eyes tightly.

 

The blonde crouches in front of her at the first sign of discomfort, touching the girl’s knee lightly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say,” she reassures. It’s probably best that she doesn’t know anyway.

 

“That’s why I keep saying, they need to be stopped now before any of that happens. Everything is in chaos. _No one_ is safe,” Onya replies just as carefully.

 

_Especially not the commander_ , Clarke makes out as the underlying meaning. It’s an odd thought to her that their primary concern is to ensure the woman she thought was invincible and practically immortal when they first met doesn’t get killed. Even during the battle at the mountain and the combat with Roan, Clarke somehow always knew that Lexa would survive. But this recent assassination attempt and the fact that this girl went back in time in an attempt to do some damage control have shattered that illusion. And Clarke has never been more dreadfully afraid.

 

She wordlessly stands up to start pacing back and forth again. This is definitely not welcomed news. Because now they also have to worry about just how in the hell they’re going to send Onya back.  

 

Raven ignores her frantic friend, clasping her hands together in front of her as she keeps her eyes trained on the girl, “What does the machine look like?”

 

“It’s huge, like a big cylinder with a lot of buttons and wires and lights. Um… and oh! It has this big blue circle on the outside with a red line going across it. It says ASA I think?”

 

The brunette’s eyes widen at that. “NASA,” she whispers. “Clarke,” Raven calls. The blonde is muttering to herself now, “Clarke. Clarke!”

 

“What?” she stops in her tracks.

 

“Remember that thing I radioed you about? The one that we found while scavenging and I said we might be able to use and I need you and Lexa to take a look at it?”

 

“Yeah? The big clunky thing could barely even fit through the doors. We haven’t had a chance to look at it though.”

 

“Where is it?”

 

“I had it placed in the big empty room on the first floor of the tower. Why?”

 

“Show me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Yes, that’s it!” the girl practically runs toward the apparatus, touching the metal coating. It’s definitely not as shiny as it will be, she thinks.

 

“Are you sure? It’s kind of…rusty looking.” Clarke asks.

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Onya replies, prying the door open and frowning at the exposed wires hanging from the ceiling and protruding through the cracks.

 

Raven circles the cylinder, making note of the long list of things it needs. She still has no idea how in the hell it will transport people through time but what other choice does she have? She has to at least try. With a big sigh escaping her lips, she turns to her friend, “This is going to be a lot of work. But if you let me have at least two people to help me, I can try to figure this thing out.”

 

“Do what you have to,” the blonde replies. She just wants Onya to be able to get back. She can’t imagine what her parents are going through after realizing she’s been gone all this time. Knowing herself, future Clarke is probably tearing down villages trying to find her.   

 

The brunette takes one final look and pats Onya’s head. Despite the glare she receives, she laughs, “We’ll get you home, kid.”

 

They start walking out of the room, not realizing Clarke stays frozen in her spot staring at the foreign object.

 

The girl calls over her shoulder, “Mom, are you coming?”

 

She doesn’t immediately turn around. She’s not exactly used to anyone calling her that. But the fluttering in her chest signifies it’s not entirely unwelcomed. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

When she finally joins the girl and small fingers interlock with hers, Clarke smiles to herself, squeezing the hand back lightly.

 

Because despite of all the horrific things happening right now, she’s walking hand in hand with a miniature Lexa who calls her _mom_.

 

And that feels pretty fucking amazing.

 

 


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one refers back to some previous chapters - I hope you remember :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 

 

“Oh shit,” she moans, hands slamming against the wall loudly and head tilting up in pleasure.

 

“Shhh, be quiet,” Lexa husks in her ear behind her.

 

They have been in meetings all day with all of the ambassadors discussing the prisoners and are now finally back in their quarters. It has been over a week since the commander’s attempted assassination and today is the first day she’s strong enough to preside over a congregation and discuss important matters at hand.

 

That, and evidently this.

 

The blonde turns her head a little to look at her lover, “Don’t shush me,” she manages to hiss back in between gasps. When the commander’s fingers stop their movement all together in defiance, she whines, arching her back even more in an attempt to move closer, “Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet.”

 

She covers her mouth with her left hand as her body goes rigid and then shakes in pure ecstasy, even biting the skin hard when Lexa doesn’t so much let her recover and sends her to another climax before recovering from the first one.

 

Clarke collapses against the wall after a little while, feeling Lexa snake her arms around her, along with a very smug smile against her neck.

 

“What did I tell you?” Lexa asks.

 

She could only lean back and laugh though, hands covering Lexa’s own.

 

The commander bites her shoulder playfully in insistence, “What did I say?”

“That you were going to fuck me,” the blonde replies breathlessly.

 

“Yeah I did,” Lexa chuckles against her skin. “And to think this could have happened days ago instead of you making me wait for that long.”

 

Clarke turns around and places her hands around her neck, now fully taking in the confident commander she has fallen deeply in love with, “You heal impressively fast. But better safe than sorry. The wound could have been easily inflamed with too much movement.”

 

The brunette ignores the comment and kisses her. Softly at first, that very quickly turned eager as she slips her tongue in and Clarke happily lets her. “I’ve waited so long for this,” she hums.

 

“It’s only been like two weeks,” Clarke retorts.

 

“Two weeks too long,” she whispers, kissing her again, “No murder attempt could stop me from having this.”

 

The blonde pulls away a little at that, face grimacing lightly at the mere mention of it.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” the commander says, pulling Clarke closer to her again.

 

“It’s okay,” she replies. It’ll take some time before she can get the horrific image and the thought of Lexa dying out of her head. And just like that, their little bubble of happiness had been burst open. “So listen… the prisoners…”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa warns.

 

“You still haven’t said what you’re going to do with them. I mean I get why you haven’t decided in front of everyone else, but…”

 

“Clarke,” she repeats, letting her hands drop against her thighs and walking to pick up a robe that has fallen on the floor. She pours a glass of water from the table, back facing the blonde.

 

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Clarke asks, crossing her arms in frustration.

 

“Why can’t we just be me and you in here for a moment? Why do you insist on talking about the prisoners every single time?”

 

_Because it’ll cost you your life_ , she wants to reply. “Because it’s important to me. You’re important to me. And they almost killed you.”

 

Lexa looks over her shoulder, “So what’re you saying? What do you suggest, ambassador?”

 

Clarke bristles in response. _Ouch_ , she thinks. They haven’t called each other by their title in private in who knows how long. “Well what’re the options?”

 

“I can banish them, just as I did for the last mountain man,” she challenges with a raised eyebrow. “I can keep them imprisoned for the rest of their life. I can send them back to their clans to serve as slaves and do whatever their leaders see fit.”

 

“And?”

 

“And what?”

 

“Well isn’t there another option?” Clarke sighs. _Like kill them?_

 

The commander walks toward her again until they are face to face. “Blood must _not_ have blood, right?”

 

“But…”

 

“Or is that just for your people?” she finishes.

 

“Lexa, that’s not fair. These people almost killed you. They threatened the commander’s life.”

 

“And the Skaikru have killed hundreds. Most of them my trusted warriors that personally protected _me_. You didn’t find that a threat to my life then.”

 

“Then fucking kill them too!” Clarke exclaims, her chest heaving from the sudden emotion. “Punish all of them if you have to. Just… just anything to keep this from happening. Just anything to keep you from _dying_ ,” she chokes out.

 

Did she just say that? She’s taken aback by the words that came out of her mouth. Though if she’s being honest with herself, it’s the truth. Yes, she knows many from the Ark that willingly killed innocent grounders that will be implicated. Bellamy included. But if this is what it takes… if this is what will end the imminent years of threat to Lexa’s life and in turn the coalition’s peace, then it’s better to put a finish to this now just as Onya said, right?

 

The commander’s face softens, furrowing her eyebrows in genuine worry, “Why are you saying this, Clarke?”

 

“I was…I was wrong.”

 

“What’re you talking about?”

 

“Blood must have blood.” _When it comes to you_ , she thinks.

 

“What? Seriously, Clarke. What’s happening? I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting strange all week.”

 

“Just consider what I’m saying.”

 

Lexa takes a step back and studies her features. Her darting eyes and twitching lips. “You’re hiding something,” she breathes out in disbelief.

 

Clarke tightens her lips. She doesn’t have it in her to deny that. But Onya was very clear in her request not to tell Lexa for she’s afraid it’ll have an adverse effect. The girl suspects she’ll either lock both of them up for being crazy or go on a rage and kill everyone she mistakenly distrusts. Clarke hates to say that she can’t fully disagree.

 

The commander watches as Clarke clutches her hands in front of her, visibly fighting to keep her resolve. Whatever it is that her lover is so conflicted about, she’s sure that she’s not saying it for a good reason. And she needs to trust that. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt though.

 

“Just, please say you’ll think about it,” Clarke implores.

 

Lexa cups her face gently, “I promise I’ll think about it,” to which Clarke nods appreciatively. “Ready to sleep?”

 

She nods again as she watches Lexa walk toward their bed with hunched shoulders. And with each physical step she takes away from her, Clarke feels their distance double and the burden in her heart grow.

 

Lexa has never felt so far away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke has been lying in bed staring up at the ceiling for what seems like hours now.

 

She woke up alone today. And that’s not something she’s really used to anymore. Even when Lexa has commander duties that force her away before the sun is even peeking out of the horizon, the brunette always wakes her up for a moment with a quick kiss or a tight embrace from behind, or even by playfully straddling her which Clarke finds both maddening and endearing at the same time.

 

She didn’t get any of those that morning though. Instead, she blindly patted the space next to her and made contact with nothing but cold furs.

 

She can’t help but feel rejected. And she knows it’s childish to feel as such when she’s the one that’s been hiding something from Lexa for a whole week. Something that’s big. Something that she would expect Lexa to tell her if the situation was the other way around. It makes sense that Lexa’s hurt. And that hurts Clarke even more.

 

Tired of stewing in self-pity, the blonde gets up with a huff and proceeds to get ready for the day. She doesn’t have to ask the guards where the commander is when she arrives at an empty throne room. There’s only one other place she’ll be.

 

And with that thought, Clarke makes her way down the tower to where the prisoners are held. A place she’s been avoiding ever since her unsettling visit to her former handmaiden.

 

She doesn’t get very far though until she stops on her tracks with an annoyed eye roll as she sees a lone figure guarding the entrance that lead down to the dungeons.

 

“The commander is busy,” he calls out.

 

The blonde physically bites her tongue until she comes face to face with him, “Clearly. Get out of the way, Titus.”

 

The flamekeeper crosses his arms defiantly, “What didn’t you understand? She’s busy.”

 

“I need to talk to her,” she replies, puffing her chest out in an attempt to show feigned confidence. She still doesn’t exactly know what she’ll tell Lexa after all.

 

“She’s cleaning up the mess that you made. Our people are going against her because of you and your kru. Haven’t you done enough already?”

 

Clarke couldn’t immediately reply. Because he’s right, isn’t he? He has been all along. They’re the reason why all the other clans are challenging Lexa’s throne, why they’re desperately trying to replace her.

 

She looks down at her shoes and sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve done enough,” she admits. “Since you’re so wise and mighty, what _can_ I do?”

 

The blonde would have laughed at the way the flamekeeper’s mouth suddenly hangs open in disbelief at her admission. He immediately schools his expression though, “Go home, Clarke. Go back to Arkadia and let me do my job in keeping the commander focused on what matters. Your presence only clouds her judgement.”

 

The blonde scoffs as she crosses her arms, “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

 

“Then you continue to put her at risk and make her appear weak in front of her own people. To be commander is to be alone. This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t here. You never should have stayed.”

 

She averts her gaze and actually considers it for a moment. Would leaving really save the commander? She tries to imagine a life without Lexa and draws a blank. As dramatic as it sounds, Clarke thinks there simply wouldn’t be one without her. And now that she has seen the most promising future embodied within a little girl, there’s simply no turning back.

 

“I’m staying,” she declares. “What else?”

 

“You know what.”

 

And she does. They simply need to die. Some of her people that are guilty of crimes included. Though she knows she’ll spend a lifetime grieving and beating herself up for the many deaths on her hands, past and future ones, she also knows that she’s willing to do that. For Lexa. For the coalition. This is still about the coalition and what’s best for everyone in the long run, right? _And what’s best for the coalition is Lexa_ , she reasons internally.

 

Her inner turmoil is interrupted by a loud clanging sound coming from the hallway to her left.

 

Titus scrunches his nose, “And what are your friends doing here making all that noise?” 

 

The blonde walks away without another word. At least she has other things to distract herself with before she faces Lexa again.

 

She walks in in a roomful of metal and wires and gadgets strewn across the vast room. “You…guys need help with anything?” she asks, looking around the messy space. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to have this…machine placed so close to the dungeons.

 

“Only your moral support, apparently. She doesn’t want me ‘ _messing anything up’_ ” Octavia says sitting cross legged against the wall as she fidgets with a piece of wire. “So that’s your daughter I hear?” motioning to the girl with her head practically touching Raven’s as they carefully place together what looks like a computer hardware.

 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to tell anyone?” Clarke protests.

 

“She kind of figured it out on her own,” Raven replies with a shrug. “But then also yes, I might have confirmed.”

 

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I’m good with secrets, remember?” Octavia reassures. “She’s a great kid, Clarke,” she smiles. “Whatever you guys did as parents, or I guess going to do, you’ll do it right. Onya here was just telling us about you and Lexa.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The girl finally looks up and smiles at her.

 

“What about me and Lexa?”

 

“She said you and the commander are still going to be as annoying and barf-inducing as you are now,” the mechanic says, earning a hard glare from the girl.

 

“I never said that,” Onya pouts. “I said they’re still in love. That’s all I said,” she promises as she looks at Clarke.  
  
The blonde crosses her arms though she can’t help but smile at that. “Alright, alright. Well, keep it down. Titus is just at the end of the hall complaining about all the noise you’re making. And we don’t want him coming in here.”

 

“Well he can suck my…”

 

“Raven! Jesus, there’s a child,” Clarke reprimands.  

 

The girl only chuckles, “I’m used to it.”

 

“Onya, is Titus still a pain in everyone’s ass in your time?” Raven asks.

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I don’t know Titus.”

 

Clarke furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean? Then who…” she trails off. Before she could even ask further, she hears voices from the end of the hall. She doesn’t say another word and closes the door behind her and as she does, she sees guards flanking Lexa exiting the dungeons.

 

Except it isn’t Lexa at that moment. It’s the commander. With red covering her face and hands and clothes.

 

The blonde knows that she sees her in her peripheral vision. Senses her. Lexa always does.

 

Clarke’s heart sinks when she doesn’t so much glance her way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She opens the door quietly and enters the room to find Lexa looking over the city with her back to her, still in her bloody clothes. The commander doesn’t move. Doesn’t so much acknowledge her presence. She waited the whole day to give Lexa some space even though it physically hurt her to do so. When the sun started to sink, the blonde practically ran up to their quarters to see her.

 

“I know you’re mad at me. I mean I’m mad at me,” Clarke starts. She fidgets with the buttons of her shirt when the brunette doesn’t say a word. “Lexa, please.”

 

The commander turns her head slightly towards her. “They won’t give up any names,” she rasps.

 

“Well…”

 

Lexa holds up a hand, “Please don’t start this again, Clarke. I’ve had a long day.”

 

The blonde slowly walks toward her lover as if approaching a wild animal. She only stops until they are face to face. The commander’s eyes are blank, though Clarke now knows what hides behind them at times like these. And she wants to do nothing more but ease that.

 

“I’m going to tell you something. It’s why I’ve been acting weird. You might not even believe me but… I really think you need to know.”

 

Lexa raises an eyebrow in question.

 

She swallows audibly and offers her hand, “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

 

When the brunette relaxes against her front in the bathtub, finally clean of grime and blood, Clarke kisses her neck and utters the one short sentence she’s been practicing in her head the whole day.

 

“Onya’s our daughter.”

 

Lexa only laughs, closing her eyes and resting her head on Clarke’s shoulder. And when she realizes that the blonde isn’t laughing with her, the commander’s body goes rigid before she turns around slowly to face Clarke with furrowed eyebrows. “What?” she breathes out.

 

Clarke sighs. It’s going to be a long night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The air is abruptly stifling as Onya nears the bottom of the steps that lead to the dungeons. It eerily reminds her of the time she last saw her nomon and heard her fighting for her life in a similar underground passage. This gave her a pause the first couple of times she had visited this place. She’s been coming here for several days now though, wanting to make sure that all of the prisoners are accounted for and that the guards stationed every few cells aren’t sleeping. So far, they’ve been doing their duties surprisingly well.

 

She expects a near silent atmosphere just as the place had been the days before. Though when she peeks around the corner, she’s surprised to find the hall deserted, except for a lone figure, standing in the middle by the cells at the very end. Onya can’t fully make out whoever it is with the dim lighting, though she’s almost sure it’s a man from the low deep voice reverberating down the hall.

 

“ _…stick to…plan…Skai Pris…”_ she manages to make out from inside the cell. Clarke’s former handmaiden. The traitor.

 

“… _we can’t…always with guards…commander’s side…”_ the man replies.

 

Her eyes widen at the same time as she ducks behind the slab of concrete. She knows that voice. Where has she heard it?

 

Whoever it is definitely isn’t a friend of the Heda and Wanheda. And though her first instinct is to confront him, Onya has thankfully learned from the last time she attacked with no actual plan and ended with a huge bump on her head.

 

She slowly and carefully makes her way up the steps, hoping the soft patter from her boots can’t be heard at the end of the hall, and grinning triumphantly when she finally makes it to the first floor of the Polis tower.

 

Despite congratulating herself for her unexpected strong willpower not to act at first sight, the girl is still more than a little bit curious as to who this man is. She at least deserves to know that, she reasons.

 

And with that thought, Onya expertly plucks a plank off the wall and edges herself inside, immediately positioning herself in a crouch. She can imagine how silly she must look cramped in the tiny space, even though she’s also undeniably impressed with herself. This is the perfect spot with the perfect indiscernible slit for people-watching. Or rather, person-watching whoever will be leaving the dungeons.

 

As if on cue, unhurried footsteps make their way up the steps very near where she’s situated. She holds her breath in anticipation.

 

_Well that wasn’t a very good plan after all_ , she frowns, after only making out a blurred object whizzing past her.

 

Though there’s one more familiar thing, she thinks. She tilts her head to the side as she listens to the sound fade away.

 

She closes her eyes in an attempt to remember. As her hand reaches up to touch the back of her head, the girl is instantly taken back to that unfortunate night. The night of the murder in the tower.

_…She didn’t register the pain then, or the excessive amount of sticky liquid rapidly pooling around her head._

_She forced her quickly drooping eyes to open and take in her surroundings. Onya would soon forget the very little details of the assailants’ features she picked up on as she slowly lost consciousness. Their faces casted by shadows, their low quiet voices,_

_and the distinct, yet ordinary sound she heard when what she assumed was the third companion strode by her form…_

 

 

Whoosh! That was the sound, she’s sure.

 

Whoosh! Is it a fabric of some kind brushing along the floor?

 

In all her wondering, the girl doesn’t notice the footsteps that have long faded, now quickly making their way back. She doesn’t notice that familiar sound getting closer and closer to her again.

 

Her eyes widen in realization. _A heavy robe_ , she thinks.

 

And when she looks out of the small opening, Onya jumps in surprise as she looks into familiar gray eyes peering into the hole.

 

Gray eyes that have been haunting her ever since she first made contact with them as a young child in her crib. Gray eyes that were ready to take her away from her family.

 

She tries not to flinch or let them scare her this time, though she’s still absolutely speechless.

 

She never would have guessed who they belonged to.

 

The man with the two warriors who murdered Tren in the tower. The man who struck the back of her head. The man with the familiar voice. The man that just came out of the dungeons.

 

 

“Flamekeeper,” she gasps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Can you at least say something?” Clarke asks, nervously picking on the scab on the side of her face.

 

She watches the commander’s profile as they now sit on the couch where Clarke has just finished telling her everything. Onya. The time traveling. People trying to kill her. She feels ten times lighter after finally getting it off her chest, but at the same time more anxious than ever as Lexa sits beside her unmoving and unblinking for the past five minutes.

 

“Yes. Stop touching your face. You might irritate the wound.”

 

The blonde groans in response. “Fine.”

 

Lexa looks away again, eyes glassy as she focuses her gaze on the table in front of her.

 

“Say something else, please?” Clarke implores.

 

The commander waits another minute before she clears her throat, “These…these people, trying to plot my death. We don’t know who the leader is?”

 

Clarke shakes her head.

 

“And they don’t see me fit as the commander because they detest the Skaikru and they think I favor them. Because I changed our ways. They think me weak because…of you?”

 

“Yes,” she frowns.

 

“That’s why you’ve been acting strange, why you’ve changed your mind about killing the prisoners and the Skaikru that are guilty? Because you believe doing so will make me appear stronger – to prevent any more attempts on my life?”

 

She nods.

 

“And…” Lexa looks at her and swallows audibly, “Onya?”

 

“Is ours,” Clarke says.

 

The commander is quiet again for a moment as she rubs her forehead in consideration. “And you actually believe all of this?” she scoffs.

 

The blonde raises her head minutely in surprise, “Well, yes.”

 

“Clarke, what you’re saying is impossible. Children are very imaginative these days. How can you just trust that what the girl said isn’t just a story she invented?”

 

“That’s a very detailed story if that’s the case. Lexa, think about it. She’s a spitting image of you. And didn’t you feel...I don’t know…connected to her instantly when you first met her?”

 

Lexa tilts her head to the side. She would be lying if she said she didn’t immediately take a liking to the girl and that she sometimes has to do a double take when she sees Onya in her training clothes that reminds her so much of her younger self. But what Clarke is claiming is just absolutely outrageous.

 

She shakes her head, “I still don’t believe it. I’m sorry, but the poor girl has been through some pretty traumatizing times and may be making things up in her head. I’ve seen it happened to some warriors after a gruesome battle.”

 

“She isn’t,” Clarke huffs in frustration.

 

“Then what else has she told you about the ‘ _future’_ to make you say that?”

 

Clarke throws her hands up, “You know what, why don’t we just ask her?” She knew it would be harder for Lexa to believe considering the fact that she hasn’t been around technology as long as the Arkers have. Unlike Raven and Octavia who readily accepted their words. But she didn’t know it would be this frustrating. She doesn’t know how else to make Lexa believe her.

 

Lexa whips her head toward her quickly, “What, now?” she gulps.

 

“Yes, now. She’s just down the hall in my old room.”

 

“It’s late.”

 

“She’s probably still up drawing or something. She likes to do that.”

 

“She likes to draw?” she asks slowly, “Like you?”

 

Clarke smiles fondly, “Like me.”

 

The commander wipes her clammy hands on her pants. She doesn’t know why she’s all of a sudden nervous when she doesn’t believe any of this nonsense. “Okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The guard posted at Clarke’s old room is practically trembling when he opens the door for them. Clarke thinks she would be too considering the Heda looks like she’s about to unleash some serious fury.

 

“You let her out of your sight?” Lexa exclaims, hands balled tightly in fists at her sides.

 

“She said she was just going to go get some water from the kitchen, Heda. Moba,” the man replies, bowing in fear.

 

“And you couldn’t just get someone to get that for her? You think I placed you as her sentry to guard an empty room?”

 

“Moba, Heda,” he repeats.

 

Clarke touches Lexa’s lower back lightly and is glad to feel her body relax a little at the slight contact, “Come on, let’s look for her. I’m sure she really is just downstairs in the kitchen.” Or so she hopes.

 

The commander turns her head to look at her and nods in agreement. She eyes the guard again, “Gather more guards and look for her.”

 

He nods and turns to leave.

 

“If I find her first,” Lexa says, making the man stop on his tracks, “I assure you there will be consequences to your recklessness.” The man bows deeply this time.

 

Clarke pulls her by the arm, “Come on, I think he gets it.”

 

When they have nearly turned the whole kitchen upside down looking for the girl, scaring all of the workers now standing on the sides in the process, the commander growls in frustration and strides out quickly that Clarke has to run to catch up to her.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m putting the city on lockdown until we find her.”

 

_The city?_ “Whoa, Lexa. We’ve only searched in one place and everyone’s looking for her right now. Why don’t we wait a little while before you do that?”

 

The commander stops on her tracks to face her, and Clarke is surprised to find her wide-eyed with worry. “What if…what if she’s hurt? Clarke, we don’t know where she is. This tower alone is huge,” she bites her lower lip anxiously, “She could be anywhere. And what if she’s… what if someone took her?” Lexa sighs, dropping her gaze for a moment, “I should have assigned more guards for her.”

 

Lexa truly can’t explain the way she’s feeling then. Anxious and agonized with panic all of a sudden. She only feels these things for Clarke whenever they are apart. And this…this girl who claims to be their child that they’ve both only known for over a month is provoking these strange sentiments. And that’s also very concerning. Because she still doesn’t believe any of this. There’s just no way…right?

Clarke caresses her chin and lifts the commander’s head up slowly so their eyes meet, “We’ll find her,” she reassures softly. “I have one more place in mind where I think she might be. If she’s not there, and you still think a lockdown is necessary, then we’ll do that.”

 

“Where?”

 

The blonde grabs her hand to walk toward the other side of the first floor of the tower. “She’s been working with Raven on that machine I told you about. It’s off of the hallway that lead to the dungeons. Almost there…”

 

“Clarke, I’ve lived here longer than you. I know where it is.”

 

“Just giving you a play by play,” she winks, hoping to calm both of them down, though she’s sure her heart is galloping just Lexa’s.

 

They round the corner and witness an unusual scene.

 

“What the hell is he looking at?” Clarke gestures to the man with his back slightly bent forward in front of a wall.

 

Lexa squeezes her hand before she lets go. “Who knows.” She clears her throat, “Titus.”

 

And the way the flamekeeper jumps should have made them question. Instead, the two watch him almost trip over his own feet, quickly leaving without a word after bowing to the commander.

 

The blonde looks at where he just disappeared to, nose scrunched in confusion. “What the hell?” she murmurs to herself. She takes several long strives to the spot the man was just occupying, the commander still in tow.

 

Clarke and Lexa gasp in unison as they see the crouched form impressively wedged inside the partitions.

 

_Gray eyes replaced by her parents’ alarmed ones_ , the girl recalls as she stares back at them.

 

And that is the first time Onya has ever experienced déjà vu.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa practically rips the plank off the wall that separates them and the child, leaving her hands with plenty of splinters.

 

Clarke would have suggested sliding it up and pulling it out, which would have been a lot easier than the brunette’s chosen method. She doesn’t want to disturb the woman’s determined concentration though, and by the look of her eyebrows pinched together and the subtle appearance of veins on her forehead, Lexa wouldn’t want her to either.

 

For the commander’s mind races even as she focuses on her task meticulously.

 

_It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be_ , she thinks.  

 

When the last piece of the wretched wood has been torn off and she takes in the girl still sitting in a crouched position, she exhales in relief.

 

_It can’t be_ , she repeats in her head.

 

Her eyes roam Onya’s features carefully, first landing on the untamed brown locks, small hands covering her knees, a very familiar prominent pout on her lips, a slight dimple on her chin that she’s never noticed before.

 

_Maybe it can be_ , Lexa ponders as she wordlessly tilts her head to the side.

 

Her gaze finally settles on the girl’s eyes, so very much alive and sparkling with wonder. The same hue as the ocean and the sky. The same shade of her favorite blue. The same as the woman next to her.

 

_It can be_ , she decides with a resigned exhale of breath.

 

Onya finally stands upright and moves so quickly that neither women knew what was about to happen. Only after a force practically knocks the air out of Lexa do they both realize that the girl has flung herself at the brunette.

 

The commander is instantly frozen in her spot, only enfolding the girl in her arms oh so slowly and loosely after what seemed liked minutes.

 

She locks her eyes, suddenly wet with unshed tears with Clarke’s and heaves a long sigh, stunned but absolutely amazed.

 

_It is_ , Lexa thinks as she finally tightens her embrace.

 

 

 

 


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's do a little flash-forward, shall we? 
> 
> Note: Some parts of this may be emotionally evoking - I only say this because I just re-read it just now and it pulled at my heart strings a bit. lol 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I know the summary to this story doesn't say much. I've been wanting to change it for some time but I just honestly don't want to give anything away. So for you guys to click on a story with a non-descriptive summary and to keep reading it that you have come this far, means so much to me!

 

**_Five years into the future_ **

_Clarke and Lexa can’t say that a lot of things that have happened in their life were planned._

_Not their first meeting. Not their first kiss. Not the way they fell in love. Not the proposal or even the bonding ceremony._

_Other than wars they have both meticulously planned and fought for, everything in their life just occurred spontaneously. And they wouldn’t have it any other way._

_That is why it takes the commander a little by surprise when she hears it for the first time._

_“I want one,” Clarke, obscured by darkness, save for the moonlight filtering in, whispers out of nowhere in the middle of the night._

_Lexa stirs from sleep at once. It’s both a curse and a gift that she wakes up after hearing the most miniscule of sounds. “Huh?”_

_“I want one,” she repeats above a whisper._

_“Want one what, ai hodnes?” Lexa murmurs sleepily, head tilted toward the blonde with her eyes still closed._

_Clarke turns to her side and studies her wife’s features for a moment. Lexa still looks as beautiful as she did the first time they met. She can’t quite believe sometimes that they’re both still alive after everything they’ve been through. She’s definitely more than grateful for what she has now, and for the longest time, she believed that there is nothing else in the world that she would want as long as she had Lexa._

_But there’s been a palpable shift in the last several months, and she knows Lexa feels it too. Clarke wants more. She wants more with the most extraordinary woman she will ever know._

_She inhales deeply, “A baby.”_

_And the way the brunette’s eyes immediately open wide at the word would have made Clarke laugh, though she forcefully purses her lips. She doesn’t want Lexa to think of it as a joke._

_“A what?” the commander asks._

_The blonde rolls her eyes, “You know what I said.”_

_“Humor me.”_

_“Fine,” Clarke huffs, “A baby. I want a baby. What I said was that I want a baby.”_

_“Oh. I thought that’s what you said. I just wanted to make sure I was hearing you correctly.”_

_They are quiet for a while, waiting for each other to say something else. The commander always wins this game of patience though and they both know it. Clarke moves closer so that the front of their bodies are touching. She nudges Lexa’s nose affectionately with hers, “Well?”_

_“Well?”_

_“Babe,” she whines. “Well, what do you think?” timidly averting her gaze downwards._

What does Lexa think? _So few words with such powerful implication behind them. She can’t say she is entirely shocked. Ever since their last visit to TonDC several months ago where Octavia, Lincoln, and their newborn, aptly named Abe, are residing, Lexa has noticed her houmon gravitating toward children more. Often training with the youngest nightbloods and visiting the orphanage more frequently to play with the little ones. Even buying all kinds of trinkets at the market for Octavia’s son that Lexa knows he is much too young to play with._

_Lexa remembers the first time Clarke held that newborn, and how the blonde looked like she never wanted to let go. She recalls seeing a new spark in her houmon’s eyes, though that may also be from Clarke’s tears as she repeatedly murmured, ‘he’s beautiful, you’re beautiful’ to the doted babe. Lexa couldn’t deny that – the boy really_ is _beautiful, already looking exactly like his father much to Octavia’s dismay._

_Unlike everyone else, Lexa’s focus wasn’t on him. She still has that image in her head of Clarke holding him so carefully, whispering oh so softly as she impressively rocked him back to sleep after crying. Lexa was stunned, and she couldn’t believe Clarke could be any more perfect. She would make an amazing mother._

_But would she? Sure, she likes children just fine. Looks forward to training with her nightbloods and visiting the orphanage when she can just as much as Clarke does. But this is entirely different, isn’t it? She’s never been around when they cry in their sleep, or get sick, or when they’re taking their baths. She doesn’t know a thing about any of those. There were no training sessions involving babies. There had never been a commander that had a child of their own. But then again, there had never been one that had a houmon either._

_“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Lexa asks._

_“Yes,” Clarke answers without hesitation. “I just…I love you so much. And I want a family with you. I never thought I’d have this. But I want us to have a chance to make something beautiful. Something that’s ours.”_

_“Clarke, how would we do that?”_

_“I may have been…already speaking to my mom about it.”_

_“Before me?” Lexa protests._

_“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see our options before I came to you,” Clarke replies rapidly. She grins, “And they are very promising.”_

_Lexa mimics Clarke’s smile. It’s hard not to when her houmon is so excited about something. “Yeah?”_

_“Yeah, we can use both of our eggs. They’ve been doing it for some time now apparently. I had no idea.”_

_“Huh.”_

_The blonde pushes Lexa on her back and straddles her, resting her whole body against the commander’s as she kisses her softly. “We can have a baby that’s a mix of_ us _. Someone that may have blonde hair and green eyes and your perfect jawline, and your fighting abilities, and my artistic one, and your terrible sense of humor. Can you imagine that?”_

_And it shouldn’t surprise Lexa anymore that she does. A child that’s truly theirs? By the way her heart is fluttering in her chest, she knows she already loves the kid and he or she isn’t even alive yet._

_“You laugh at my jokes,” Lexa retorts, making Clarke groan in impatience._

_“Only because I have to.” She chuckles lightly at the commander’s grumbling, “Okay, okay. You’re funny. I love your sense of humor.”_

_Lexa smiles in satisfaction, tucking a blonde hair behind Clarke’s ear. “Alright,” she replies slowly. “How do we start?”_

_Clarke squeals and kisses her face repeatedly, making her squirm in laughter. “Really? Really? Are you sure?”_

_“If you don’t stop asking, I might change my mind.”_

_The blonde pinches her fingers together and moves them across her mouth, zipping it tightly. “I’ll call my mom tomorrow so she can schedule us for tests.”_

_“Very well,” Lexa pulls her head down for a kiss. “Now let’s make this baby.”_

_Clarke laughs, though she kisses her back just as eagerly, “That’s not how we do it.”_

_The commander flips her over, causing the blonde to yelp and chuckle as her back hits the mattress. Lexa throws off her own shirt and Clarke readily does the same. She kisses her neck and smiles as she feels Clarke’s breath hitch._

_“Are you sure? The books have been lying then.”_

 

* * *

 

_Lexa is sure she has never ridden so fast before._

_Her favored horse can thankfully handle the toil, can sense her desperation to get back to Polis as soon as possible, though her guards meant to be flanking her are quickly falling behind. It’s not safe, especially with the current hostile state of the coalition. But she can’t help it. She needs to get home. Needs to make sure Clarke and their unborn child are okay._

_The commander has been away for two weeks visiting various clans in farther lands that she doesn’t get to visit as much. Normally her houmon would have been right by her side but Abby had advised that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to do so, considering Clarke had been having complications with her pregnancy._

_Lexa hated leaving her. Felt guilty with every mile she traveled away from them. Her family. But she needed to. She’s still the commander after all. And the clans are quickly growing rebellious with random acts of defiance._

_When she received word that something had happened though, Lexa wrapped up her tour without a second thought and started riding back right away. She barely let her troop rest, and she senses they are drained and exhausted from the fast pace the commander had set, though she assured them repeatedly that they could catch up to her once they have rested._

_Not her though. There’s only one place she needs to be. And that’s by Clarke’s side._

_She breathes a sigh of relief when the tall gates of Polis finally come to view, urging her horse to go even faster to reach her destination._

_The commander can only manage a tight nod to the loyal citizens of Polis gathered inside the entrance to welcome their leader back before she is running toward the tower where the guards swiftly open the oversized doors. The lift up to the commander’s floor couldn’t be any slower she thinks, as she repeatedly taps her right foot impatiently, though it’s been recently replaced by a much faster one, thanks to Raven and her team._

_Lexa is stuck in her spot though as the doors of the lift finally open to her floor and she sees a figure sitting outside the door of their room with her head down, and from the looks of it from afar, trembling in tears. Lexa couldn’t move. The messenger never told the commander exactly what happened. Only that there was an urgent emergency and that she needed to come back to Polis._

_The whole ride home, she imagined the worst of the worst to perhaps soften the blow. To hopefully give her the strength to deal with whatever may come._

_The sight of the woman quivering in emotion has shattered that pretense quickly though. The commander’s mask tossed aside so suddenly as she mirrors the woman’s rapid breathing and contorted face. Only when a loud ding startles the brunette and the doors start to close again that she finds it in her to move, albeit very slowly._

_“Abby,” she rasps even before she reaches her, swallowing a lump in her throat the size of a marble._

_The woman looks up and stands up at that, and it takes all of Lexa not to let her tears fall at the sight of Abby’s red-rimmed eyes._

_“Lexa,” she croaks as she instantly closes the remaining gap between them and enfolds her in a tight grip._

_The commander grasps her back just as desperately, accepting the comfort for something that has yet to be said, though she thinks deep down she knows. “Clarke?” she manages to ask._

_“She’s asleep. She’s fine, stable,” Abby says, still refusing to loosen her embrace. “I’m sorry…” she cries, causing Lexa to close her eyes tightly. “I couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry, Lexa.”_

_Words escaped her then. And she’s sure that if one were to slice open her chest, one would find a barely beating shattered organ._

_They were going to name him Jacob. After Clarke’s father. Her houmon’s hero who never had a chance to fulfill his lifelong dream of making it to the ground._

_Their Jacob was the size of a ripe mango. Who had barely formed toes, it made Clarke and Lexa gasp in unison when they first saw the tiny appendages on the screen. He had a strong heartbeat that made them tear up the first time they heard the soft repeated thumps. He even gave Lexa a_ good luck _kick before she left Polis a couple of weeks ago that had her smiling to herself for hours._

_He was going to be the first child of a commander. A warrior and an artist and a healer and so many other amazing things. He was going to be theirs. Her son. and Clarke’s._

_At the thought of her houmon, Lexa finally pulls away, though Abby, barely managing to hold herself together is reluctant to do so as she keeps a hand on the brunette’s elbow._

_“If you both need anything at all, please…” Abby wipes her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m just across the hall.”_

_Lexa nods appreciatively, taking a deep breath as she slowly pushes open the door._

_She walks in and quietly makes her way to the side of the bed, taking in Clarke’s curled up form underneath the blankets, few wisps of blond peeking out of the furs. She couldn’t see her entire face, only her closed eyes swollen underneath._

_And with two days of riding, trying to get back to her family and trying to keep it together on the road, it is as if a flood of gates has opened up as the commander finally lets her tears fall. For the first time in a very long time, she lets her emotions swell and take over until her eyesight is blurry and she’s trembling and gasping for breath.  She covers her mouth with her hand as she muffles the sound, stepping away from the blonde for a moment so as not to wake her up._

_After what seems like tiring mournful hours, Lexa finally strips off her commander attire and lays in bed with her houmon, holding her from behind. She kisses her cheek and silently promises to always be with her._

_The next morning, Lexa wakes up alone. She must’ve been so tired not to notice the shift on the mattress._

_Clarke is gone._

* * *

 

_Over the years, they have established a daily routine._

_The commander would rise in the morning and get ready for the day, giving Clarke a kiss before going off to do her duties, while the blonde lays in bed for a little while longer until she too prepares for her day at the healing center or the orphanage or wherever she is needed. Clarke hasn’t been an ambassador for some time now, happily passing the role to an all too delighted Harper from the Skaikru. She is still involved in important meetings and decision makings, being the commander’s houmon, and she’s never been more content to represent all clans instead of just one. They would sometimes meet for lunch if their days permit, though that is few and far in between given that their schedules mostly clash._

_But the constant is always,_ always _happily coming home to each other, exchanging their tales for the day, and falling asleep in each other’s arms._

_For the first time in the five or so years they have been together though, Clarke and Lexa have a wholly change in pattern._

_The days following turned to weeks after…_ after _, Lexa would sometimes wake up alone, Clarke leaving in the early hours without so much as a goodbye - hunting, or training, or simply roaming around the city that hasn’t yet fully woken. There are rare days that the commander would open her eyes, delighted to see the blonde still next to her, though with her back turned, several feet away that feels more like miles._

_They would spend their days apart, fulfilling their own duties, Lexa coming back to their quarters with an already asleep Clarke under the furs._

_Lexa tried her hardest the first weeks trying to get her houmon to talk to her, or even simply look at her, but the brunette can only take so many rejections before she too gave up. The commander still gets tired after all._

_There were no more good morning kisses, sneaking away during their busy day to spend even as little time with each other as they can, welcome home embraces, content quiet suppers, or love making. Not even talking. It is as if they started just simply existing around each other, whereas before, they felt like they were existing_ for _each other._

_Lexa hasn’t felt like this in a long time. She feels desperately alone._

_“Em pleni!” the commander shouts, silencing the arguing clansmen quarreling about lands. She pinches the bridge of her nose in impatience, “We will reconvene in the morning.”_

_She swiftly gets up from her throne, not sparing anyone a glance as she makes her way to her quarters. There have been too many restless and sleepless nights, and she simply cannot stand to hear any more grown men arguing about trivial things._

_She slowly opens the door and finds the room empty, not realizing that she hasn’t come back this early in a while. And it feels good somehow, to enter her quarters without feeling the penetrating tension between her and Clarke. She breathes a sigh of relief, though she feels undeniably guilty feeling such a thing._

_Judging from the sun, Clarke wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. And with that thought, she opens a drawer and pulls out a portrait that once gave her so much joy._

_A sonogram, Abby called it. Lexa sits at the edge of the bed holding the image with delicate fingertips. She traces his head, and then his hands, and then his toes. She smiles. And just as fast, it disappears. Replaced with a frown, coupled with sorrowful thoughts. In all her pondering, she doesn’t notice the door open._

_“Oh, I didn’t know you were…” Clarke starts. She turns to the door again, “I’m just going to go…do something.”_

_“Clarke,” Lexa calls._

_The blonde stops on her tracks, her back turned to the commander, “I need to go work on thi…”_

_“Enough!” Lexa exclaims as she stands up. “Enough, Clarke,” she implores more softly._

_“I don’t want to talk.”_

_“If you walk out of that door, don’t come back here,” Lexa says in a wavering voice. “I will get your old room prepared. Or if you wish, somewhere else outside of the tower. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t want to be with me, then just go.”_

_Clarke finally turns to face her. And it’s the first time in a long time that their eyes meet. “You think this is about that?” She slams the door shut behind her so hard that the books on the shelf rattle in response. “You think this is about_ you?”

 

_“Then what is it?”_

_“I lost a fucking baby,” Clarke hisses._

_“_ You? _” she replies, “Just you?”_

_“I carried him for months! And just like that, he’s gone,” the blonde angrily wipes her tears._

_“I lost him too!” Lexa cries, “You don’t think I also felt grief just because it wasn’t me that carried him? You don’t think I…” she trails, sitting down on the bed with her head down, feeling the tears steadily streaming down her face. “And now I’ve lost you too.”_

_After moments of silence, she hears a thud as Clarke kneels in front of her. The blonde positions her head on Lexa’s lap, and the commander immediately feels the tears seeping through the fabric of her clothes. “It’s my fault…” Clarke mumbles. “I should have been more cautious. I shouldn’t have been doing too much. It’s my fault,” she repeats._

_Lexa combs through blonde hair, feeling her heart break even more, “Ai hodnes, beja. It’s not your fault.”_

_“I feel like I disappointed you.”_

_“Clarke, look at me,” Lexa implores, placing a hand on the blonde’s chin to tilt her head toward her. “No one could’ve predicted what happened. Please don’t blame yourself for this.”_

_She nods hesitantly, though she already feels a sense of relief in hearing her wife’s words. How did she go so long not talking to her? How could she have forgotten that Lexa’s the_ only _one who could ever truly ease her pain?_

_“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty wife. You didn’t lose me,” Clarke stands up and grasps the brunette’s face softly, “You’ll never lose me.”_

_When their lips connect for the first time in weeks, they both sigh into the kiss, shedding the weight off their chests._

_And it feels good to be home again._

_A year later, a beautiful baby girl is born. The new parents don’t even have to think twice what she’ll be called as they pay homage to the woman who, even in her dying breath, strived to bring the most beautiful thing together._

_Clarke and Lexa._

 

* * *

 

 

**Now**

“Onya,” Lexa recites out loud for must have been the twentieth time in the past hour as they now lay in bed. Clarke’s head is resting on her shoulder as she rubs the blonde’s back with a smile on her face that doesn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon. “That’s a clever name.”

 

The blonde grins, “I bet I thought of it.”

 

“And why do you think that?”

 

“Anya and I were cool. We really hit it off at Mount Weather,” she jokes.

 

“By hitting it off, you mean literally hitting each other’s faces?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Lexa laughs, unrestrained and blissful. And for a moment, she forgets the outside world and all of the obstacles they have yet to overcome. She lets joy and giddiness and _love_ bubble within her. She has a _daughter_. The most brilliant child she’s ever met. She has a _family_. With none other than _Clarke_ , the love of her life. How did she ever get so lucky?

 

Only for a moment, she lets her imagination run wild with wonderful things that have yet to happen, Clarke and now Onya by her side. Just has it always been for the commander though, she urges herself to push aside her wants and needs for the time being.

 

Her smile falters as her pleasant thoughts are abruptly replaced by not so pleasant ones.

 

She should be used to it by now, she thinks. Every time something good happens, it’s almost always coupled with something completely opposite.

 

As big as a revelation Onya’s existence is, so is what she thinks is the biggest betrayal she has ever experienced.

 

For after their heartfelt reunion, the girl immediately blurted out what she has put together.

 

Titus had been behind it all this whole time.

 

It shouldn’t surprise her this much considering her flamekeeper has been very vocal in his disapproval of the Skaikru and anything that has to do with Clarke. But Lexa still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that this man that practically raised her and has sworn repeatedly to protect her is capable of doing such a thing. So willing to go to such great lengths to undo everything she’s achieved as a commander. To easily replace her. To heartlessly _kill_ her.

 

The commander doesn’t quite know how to make all of this, considering hours ago, she had been skeptical of Onya’s claim of traveling through time and their relationship, and now comes her second revelation.

 

Titus, even after his insistent protests when he was apprehended is now also in the dungeons along with the other prisoners. They are going to have to wait for several more hours for when all the clan leaders have arrived and Lexa decides what to do with them. The commander placed practically half her sentries guarding the dungeons, the other half on the commander’s floor for Onya. The girl tired herself out after explaining so many things rapidly without taking a single breath, yawning repeatedly after. The poor thing could barely even walk to Clarke’s room that Lexa herself wordlessly picked her up in her arms. By the time the two women pulled up the furs firmly around the small frame, Onya was already snoring.

 

Lexa sighs. She’s elated of course, but just absolutely exhausted from having to deal with one thing after another.

 

“Titus?” Clarke yawns.

 

She doesn’t answer for a moment, taking the time to gather her thoughts. “I just... I should have known.”

 

“Babe...”

 

“It’s hard to believe but at the same time, I should have expected it. I put you and... and Onya in danger.” She closes her eyes tightly. This one will take a while to stop beating herself up for.

 

“Lexa, honestly, I couldn’t believe it either. I thought he was just an asshole. I mean he is, but I also couldn’t imagine him doing all of this. It’s not your fault.”

 

She sighs again, “No more Titus talk until the morning,” she decides.

 

“Which is in like three hours,” Clarke yawns again and leans up to kiss her, “Reshop, Lexa.”

 

“Reshop,” she parrots back, finally closing her eyes. After a moment, Lexa smiles again at the thought of the girl she and Clarke somehow created. “Onya,” she whispers again.

 

“Yes, I know that’s her name. Now go to sleep you crazy woman.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What’s all this?” Clarke walks out of the bathroom and eyes a long table brought in to the commander’s quarters filled with all kinds of food. The blonde tightens her robe and pops a berry in her mouth. “Who’s coming to the party?”

 

The brunette glares back at her, “I mean, I don’t know what she likes to eat. So… I don’t know...” She looks around the array of assortments and fidgets nervously. “Is it too much? Yes it’s definitely too much. I’ll have some taken away.”

 

Clarke laughs lightly and places an arm around her, “It’s fine.” She scrunches her nose, “You’re so cute when you’re all... maternal.”

 

Lexa ignores the comment, “Go get dressed.”

 

“Kiss me first,” she says as she leans in.

 

The brunette turns her head away, “Clarke, I just had someone fetch her, she’ll be coming soon.”

 

“Just a quick one. You just left this morning to do whatever you did and I woke up alone.”

 

“Get dressed,” Lexa repeats.

 

Clarke raises an eyebrow at the rejection, “Fine, don’t then,” she replies as she disentangles herself. Before she could go any further though, Lexa grabs her arm and pulls her back quickly.

 

“Alright, just one,” Lexa concedes as she holds the back of Clarke’s head and kisses her.

 

Despite her initial hesitation, the commander isn’t the first one to pull away. “You like to play hard to get. But we both know you can’t resist me,” the blonde teases. They laugh at that. They both know it’s true. She leans in again and this time Lexa enthusiastically does too.

 

“Mounin,” Onya greets as she walks toward them and pulls a chair to sit on.

 

The two women scramble to get away from each other, though the girl seems undisturbed from the whole scene. And how did she come in so quietly?  _She’s like a ninja,_ Clarke thinks as she picks out her clothes from the closet.

 

Once she is fully dressed, she comes out of the bathroom to what looks like a quiet intense staring contest between the commander and the girl. She stands next to Lexa and eyes her profile questioningly, “What’re you guys doing?”

 

“I think she’s shocked,” Onya says.

 

Lexa clears her throat and shakes her head, “You should eat. We have a lot to talk about after.”

 

The girl puts one of everything on her plate. Her eyes widen when she sees a plate of pastries topped with sweetened fruits. She picks it up but looks up at the two hesitantly, “You guys don’t let me have these in the mornings...”

 

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Why?”

 

“Because it’s sweet and apparently not ‘good’ for me.”

 

“Well just this once, you can have as many as you want,” Lexa says that has Onya grinning widely. She beams back for invoking such a response.

 

“Am I eating by myself?” Onya asks, mouth full of food as she eyes Clarke and Lexa still standing.

 

“Oh, no of course not,” Clarke pulls a chair for the commander, “After you.”

 

Polite exchanges that were at first awkward gradually turn to a more relaxed flow of conversation. They are interrupted by a knock in the middle of the meal and the two women glare at a guard who immediately blanches in response. Clarke is about to protest when he requests her audience given that this is the first time she’s having breakfast with her family but manages to hold her tongue when she hears Raven’s name. She knows it has to be important.

 

“I’ll be right back,” she leans in to kiss Lexa on reflex, who surprisingly has quickly gotten over her shyness around Onya and kisses her back.

 

Clarke rolls her eyes but chuckles to herself at the last thing she hears Lexa ask before closing the door on her way out.

 

_“So what’s your favorite weapon?”_

* * *

 

 

 

“Clarke,” Monty greets with a smile as he embraces her with one hand, the other one holding some kind of metal.

 

She smiles widely, genuinely happy to see another familiar face, “You look taller,” she comments, eliciting a shy blush from the young man.

 

“Hey, princess,” a lively voice bellows from across the room.

 

Raven rolls her eyes as she crouches in front of the vast metal apparatus, “Don’t call her that. Clarke, do you remember Wick? If you don’t, that’s fine. He’s totally forgettable.”

 

She weakly smiles and waves at the man. As entertaining as Raven is when she’s feeling particularly lippy, Clarke simply doesn’t have time to witness a back and forth banter between the mechanic and her former special friend. “You rang?” she asks, slowly circling the machine and grazing the cool metal with her fingertips. It already looks a lot shinier and cleaner than the last time she saw it, exposed wires now mostly attached to one thing or another.

 

“We figured it out,” Raven smiles, holding up a roll of film-like paper, “This right here, is used to reflect tiny laser rays that generates a circulating beam of light. All we need is enough intensity replicated in a small enough space to alter the linear timeline and create some kind of wormhole.”

 

Clarke scratches her head, “Raven, you lost me at laser rays. Talk non-nerdy to me please.”

 

The mechanic sighs. “It’s just like us traveling from space to here,” Raven exclaims, smile falling off at the blonde’s dumbfounded look.

 

Monty chimes in, “Clarke, time is just in a kind of dimension that we can move backwards or forwards just as we can in space!” He watches Clarke nod slowly, recognizing the wheels turning in her head.

 

“That’s great,” she smiles encouragingly, though she still has no idea what her friends are talking about. “When will it be done?”

 

“Well we would’ve been right on schedule if this knucklehead over here didn’t step on some circuit boards we needed,” she glares at the back of Wick’s head.

 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I said I was sorry two hundred times already.”

 

Raven squints her eyes, boring holes onto the poor man’s back, “Sorry doesn’t take back the hours of...”

 

Clarke throws her hands up, “Okay that’s enough. What do you need?”

 

Raven stands up and takes out a pebble like object from her pocket, holding it between her fingers delicately. “We need more of these. It’s the only natural stone that reflects back powerful enough beams. We found one in that machine stuck in between the floors but whoever stumbled upon it before us scavenged the others.” She holds it up in front of Clarke and notices the color is practically an exact match of her friend’s eyes.

 

“Whoa,” Monty breathes out.

 

“Whoa is right. That’s weird. This is the same shade as your eyes. I wonder if we can gouge out your eyes and use…”

 

Clarke scrunches her nose in disgust and shakes her head again. She really has no time for jokes. She untucks a cord from her shirt and holds up the necklace Lexa gave her all those weeks ago. “So like this one?”

 

The brunette gasps as she moves closer to compare the two, “Yes! Where’d you get this?”

 

“I think I know where we can find them.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Onya watches her nomon’s unchanging facial features as she disgorges out details after details of what she knows have taken, or in this case, will take place. 

 

The adverse snowball effect of _no jus drein no jus daun_ with the commander pardoning the traitors that have committed crimes. The hatred for the Skaikru and its contagious outcome, dividing the coalition and at times causing civil wars to take place in individual clans. The constant tremulous state of the coalition from random threats and murders that followed after. The interminable fear and unrest of their people. 

 

She doesn’t say how it will end. Her nomon would know. She’s confident this young commander would too. 

 

The girl doesn’t quite sense if Lexa actually believes her or not, considering she hadn’t even made a single sound, choosing to sit quietly with her hands folded on her lap, nodding every now and then for Onya to continue. 

 

“So I came here. Because this is where it starts,” she finishes.

 

Lexa doesn’t say anything for a moment, registering everything that has been said. And a lot has definitely been said. She takes a deep breath, “And your... me and Clarke, in the future I mean. We don’t know where you went? You didn’t tell anyone?”

 

The girl blushes. She should have expected that. “No... not exactly.”

 

“So we... they have been looking for you all this time. They don’t know where you are.”

 

Clarke definitely is. _I hope you are too_ , she thinks. Onya drops her head, “Yes, I’m certain you are. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Lexa moves closer to the girl, not quite touching, but hoping to comfort with her proximity. “Clarke said Raven is working on it right now though right? We’ll get you back,” she reassures. “They’ll get you back,” she whispers almost to herself. She already feels a sense of loss at the thought of Onya leaving. She can’t imagine what future Lexa and Clarke are feeling after looking for her for over a month and not finding a single trail.

 

The girl nods wordlessly.

 

“So, who is the flamekeeper in your time?”

 

“Indra.”

 

“Huh, that makes sense.” Indra is her most trusted general that is most familiar with the commander duties other than the flamekeeper himself. With her recent injuries, Lexa suspects the woman won’t be on the battlefields for long. There isn’t anyone else in mind that could dutifully protect and counsel the commander and future commanders as well as Indra. “And Titus?”

 

“You never talked about him. He disappeared, I suppose. I had only heard his name whispered every now and then. But always good things.”

 

“And you think he is the cause of this... imminent unrest?”

 

“I don’t think,” Onya sighs. “I know. He’s behind all of this. And he’ll continue to poison people’s perception of you and gather more and more followers. They’ll keep attacking for... for years. Until...” she closes her eyes tightly. 

 

_Until I die_ , Lexa finishes for her. She touches the girl’s arm, squeezing it lightly. 

 

_Not if he dies first_ , the commander decides.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

He can tell it’s close to midnight despite the lack of windows in the cells. The guards switch every six candlemarks and this set of sentries are moving about, anxiously waiting for their replacements. 

 

The flamekeeper sits in the last cell, back against the wall, an arm leisurely draped over a bent knee. He can only hope his new recruits won’t let him down tonight.

 

It’s a wonderful gift, he thinks; to be able use merely his words to easily persuade unknowing people. All he needed to do was whisper to those the Skaikru have wronged, directly or indirectly, light up their hatred, and promise avenge. And words and hatred - well, they spread like wildfire. And revenge will always be a gratifying promise.

 

_Alexandria is too far gone_ , he thinks. _The Skai girl has poisoned her mind._ As much as he respected the commander, he knows there is only one way the clans - the true clans, will justly be at peace. And that is their way. _Jus drein jus daun._ If Lexa won’t do it, then another natblida will. Not the ones in the tower of course; they’ve also been tainted. But there’s one in particular that will do what he asks with no question, as long as it involves killing. And she is up in the iciest of mountains. So north they will go.

 

“Are you certain they’re coming?” Riva whispers from the cell across from his.

 

Titus doesn’t answer. Only keeps his eyes closed as he thinks his plan through.

 

He opens them not even minutes later from the sounds of clashing swords and bodies falling to the ground unceremoniously echoing through the halls. 

 

_They have arrived._


	18. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pleased to give you a glimpse of none other than
> 
> Wanheda 2.0 
> 
> =)

 

 

**_Thirteen Years into the Future_ **

****

This is getting really fucking old _, she thinks to herself as she impassively sizes up five men who foolishly decide to block their path. Clarke counts three more hiding amongst the trees surrounding them._ If you call being perched behind sparse leaves, bright colors of their clans in full display, ‘hiding’, _she rolls her eyes._

_“Gentlemen, is there anything we can help you with?” Clarke drones, eyeing her three other companions who appear equally bored._

_They are on their way back to Polis after a week of traveling, visiting farther villages where people claim to have had sights on a certain blue eyed, brown haired little girl who has been missing for weeks now. So far, their search has led to absolutely nothing except for daily nuisance of audacious groups of people who decided they hated the commander for one reason or another. Much like the reckless ones facing them currently, sneering at the thrill of being in front of the Heda’s very own houmon._

_The burly man in the middle, who she assumes is their so-called leader takes a step forward, gripping his already drawn sword tightly, “This is our territory and we have the right to question each and every one that passes.”_

_“Huh. That’s a new one,” she mockingly replies. She turns to her left, “Aden, you’re a natblida. Remind me again what the commander owns.”_

_“All the lands,” the young man replies automatically. This isn’t the first time they have practiced this dialogue. “Including this one.”_

_“Ah, that’s right,” Clarke nods, eyeing the man again who has somehow moved closer during the whole exchange. “So it seems to me, that this in fact, isn’t your territory after all. If you and your companions so kindly move out of the path, we’ll be on our way.”_

_“Lexa is no Heda of mine,” the man growls, earning several shouts of approval from the men behind him. “Until we have a rightful commander, these are my lands.”_

_“And why is that?” the blonde challenges with her hands nonchalantly behind her back, moving closer so they are face to face._

_“She brings us nothing but dishonor,” he hisses._

_“How?” Though she’s definitely irritated that they’re being delayed, Clarke can’t deny that this is a part she finds the most amusing. When she asks her challengers why they disagree with the commander when Lexa has done nothing but provide for them._

_The man can only mutter angrily in reply. And it’s just another proof that their people really don’t know what they’re fighting for anymore. Only that it’s important to fight._

_“That’s what I thought,” she replies, a ghost of a smile on her face._

_“She’s good as dead anyway,” he grumbles under his breath._

_And by the way the man swallows audibly when Clarke daringly moves closer, he’s aware that that was the wrong thing to say. “What did you just say?”_

_He puffs out his chest in a feigned show of confidence, “I said, she is good as dead.” He raises his sword minutely, “And you will be joining her soon.”_

_She scoffs. “Is that so? Listen to me. The commander is very much alive. She owns the lands that your huts are currently rested. The electricity that powers your village, which she had installed. The ocean, which she ensures is sustainable for you to fish. The forest that she protects from being destroyed that allows you to hunt plenty of game. This very path we are on that makes trades from other clans possible, which the Heda herself negotiated and arranged. As a matter of fact, even the air that you’re breathing and currently_ fucking _wasting, she owns,” Clarke finishes through gritted teeth._

_She starts to turn around but stops midway. “On second thought, let’s do something about that,” she adds as her hand quickly reaches for a knife on her hip that is embedded in the man’s neck in a blink of an eye. The foolish man barely has time to react as Clarke catches and twists his wrist, rendering his sword useless._

_Within mere minutes, eight lifeless men lay on the ground._

_“Leave them,” she orders with a hard voice when Lincoln starts gathering the bodies for a pyre burning._

_Clarke rides away without another word, eager to get back to Polis. After everything that has happened lately, perhaps leaving the bodies for the animals to feast on and for others to witness will convey a ringing a message._

_Wanheda is back._

_And she’s done fucking around._

 

* * *

 

_The way the people part and make way for her as she enters the throne room is an incredible sight._

_Some fidget nervously, arms twitching on their sides, desperately wanting to reach out to graze her arm or shoulder. Some even bow their heads deeply as if on reflex and urge just by being in her presence. Some gawk shamelessly, eyes in a trance as Clarke walks by them, splatters of blood still on her clothes, and red sash flowing behind her back._

_They don’t do this out of fear or obsession._

_But out of plain respect and admiration._

_For there’s nothing more captivating than a woman, already a force to reckon with alongside the commander, but as regal as she is by herself. There’s nothing more contagious than her dedicated passion to bring all of their people together and her infectious vision of harmony amongst the clans, echoing her wife’s very own hopes and desires._

_Despite their countless adversaries, threatening to dismantle the coalition that they have worked tirelessly on for many years, they still have loyal followers that triple those numbers. And it’s a relief to see such a sight. To feel that glimmer of hope that maybe they stand a chance. That maybe with as many like-minded people by their side, they would all someday experience the peace they have been longing for for a long time._

_Clarke takes the several steps up the dais and veers to her left. She doesn’t sit on the empty throne. No, she’ll never do that. Instead, the blonde stands on its right side, ever the loyal position of the commander’s houmon._

_She lets her hand brush the raised wooden surface of the throne, closing her eyes for a moment in hopes to channel some of Lexa’s courage and strength. And god, does she need those right at that moment from the last several days…well, weeks that she has had._

_Over the last several weeks that Lexa has been incapacitated, Clarke has discovered a newfound appreciation of the commander’s duties. Of course, she has always known that it’s difficult and often dangerous. She also knows the overwhelming burden that weighs on the commander’s shoulders. After all, Clarke has witnessed the many times Lexa would come home just absolutely physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. She knows when it’s especially bad when her wife comes in to their room quietly and embraces her firmly for a long time like she never wants to let go. And Clarke dares not to either, happily taking some of the misery and pain and hurt. Willingly accepting everything Lexa is, whether it be good or bad._

_She knows it’s easy to be bogged down by the weight of everyone looking up at you, relying on you. But did Lexa feel this… this lonely? This all-consuming feeling that no else understands? Clarke hopes that’s not the case for her wife anymore, with the two being together in Polis for over a decade now. She supposes she can ask Lexa later._

_“What’s the report?” she asks, eyeing the few people who have come forward._

_A general clears his throat, “Our scouts have had sightings of Heda’s attackers. There doesn’t seem to be one place where they congregate, groups separating every few hours. Some head up north, some to the west.”_

_“And you’ve captured them?”_

_He blanches for a moment, “Not all of them. We have our best trackers in pursuit of the bigger groups traveling farther away. Only those who have strayed by themselves or in smaller groups that were still loitering around the surrounding areas have been captured. They’re in the dungeons as we speak, awaiting to be questioned.”_

_Clarke’s exhales loudly, outwardly showing her displeasure for a moment. They have only been able to capture useless prisoners who seemingly don’t know a thing. No matter what tactics she uses, peaceful or otherwise, no one would talk. She gives a tight nod and turns to the next person. “Octavia?”_

_The brunette lowers her head in apology and speaks in a low voice, “We have doubled our groups for the search just as you requested, up and down the coast and even going west… No sights of Onya.”_

_Clarke sighs miserably but manages to keep her façade in place. How Lexa remains calm and keeps an impassive pretense in front of people on a regular basis is beyond her. And that’s another thing she internally notes to ask Lexa._

_The meeting lasts for a couple of more hours, with each clans - at least the eight remaining ones, the others choosing to secede and rebel against the coalition, reporting the same circumstances in their respective lands. Pillage. Murder. Unrest and living in fear. The same struggles they all have had for years. Except this time feels different. This time feels more grave. More personal._

_By the time the last of the people file out of the room, the blonde hunches her shoulder and relaxes her stance, already feeling relieved with less people looking up at her._

_She walks the few steps toward the balcony and grasps the railing so hard her knuckles turn white. She wants to scream. How can she do this by herself without someone to consult with? How does she steer the coalition, barely intact, to the right direction without someone to exchange ideas with? How does she deal with an epidemic of expiring nuclear plants when everyone else seems to be more occupied in killing each other? How does she do all of the commander’s duties and still look for their daughter?_

_Clarke swallows a lump in her throat at the thought._ Where are you, Onya?

_The guards posted at Mount Weather suspects Onya snuck out in the middle of the night before they discovered that she was gone. Clarke has ordered as many troops as Polis can spare looking for the girl, even going herself with a small group of people every week to no avail. It is almost like she has vanished from thin air._

_She closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. Hoping to keep her tears at bay. What would Lexa say when she finds out that Clarke somehow lost their child?_

_At the thought of her wife, she finally opens her eyes, feeling triumphant for not giving in to her emotions at the moment. She has gone over a week now without crying. It’s a small victory, but she’ll take what she can get these days._

 

* * *

 

_When she was a child, Clarke loved being in the medical wing on the Ark. She was never allowed in the operating room when there were serious injuries and surgeries needed to be performed. But after the successful ones, her mother allowed her to sit on a chair and quietly watch as they care for the healing patients. She’d pick up any medical device her small curious hands can grasp when no one was looking. She’d even interact with the delighted patients. But mostly, she would sit there quietly in the corner of the room, watching the mesmerizing green lines going up and down on the black screen. She took comfort in hearing that incessant beep signifying that they’re still alive._

_That’s still true to this day. She breathes a sigh of relief as she opens the door to their room with that same noise resonating in the background. Clarke makes her way to the side of the bed, sitting down on her usual oversized chair._

_“You’ll never believe the week I had,” she sighs, taking Lexa’s slackened hand. “We rode all the way to the Glowing Forest to bring some supplies. They were very appreciative. I took Aden with me. You’ll be proud,” she smiles. “He’s quite the diplomat.”_

_She’s met with silence._

_“We also…” Clarke trails. “We heard rumors about Onya possibly being there.”_

_The blonde lowers her head in guilt, though she knows she’s free from any scrutinizing gaze. “We’ll find her, I promise,” she follows, though she also knows she wouldn’t get a response._

_She finally looks up to gaze at her wife, eyes closed. Unmoving, save for the rise and fall of her chest._

_Polis warriors found the commander tied to a pole in the middle of a near empty campground, most assailants fleeing after sensing they have been found. The few that they captured rendered absolutely useless when questioned._

_Clarke remembers seeing Lexa being quickly carried to the healing center. Over the last tumultuous years, it wasn’t a rare sight anymore, both women being in the same position every once in a while. But this time around was much different, with the commander’s body completely limp and soaked in black liquid. Face and body so badly beaten, the blonde could hardly recognize it was her anymore. And Clarke remembers feeling a rollercoaster of emotions during that moment. Numb. Enraged. Absolutely frightened._

_Clarke is thankful that her wife is healing quickly with her skin practically free of bruises, though she has not woken once for weeks now. And this part is also concerningly different. Every time either of them have been hurt in the past, they always wake at the most within a week._

_“We haven’t been to that area in a while. It’s still mind-blowingly beautiful. I wished you were there with me. I missed you,” she kisses Lexa’s hand. “I miss you,” she corrects herself in a small voice._

_She combs her fingers through her own hair, touching the ends that reach up to her shoulders. “Oh yeah, I got a haircut. Well…more like some asshole hacked at it during a fight so it’s a lot shorter now. I hope you’ll like it.”_

_The door being thrown open startles her._

_“Clarke, you have to come with me now. Raven found something,” Octavia says, chest heaving from running._

_“What?” she asks, already getting up to follow her friend._

_“Just come on,” the brunette says over her shoulder impatiently, walking fast toward Clarke’s old room where Octavia has been staying when she is in Polis._

_Upon arrival, a computer screen displays an enlarged image of Raven with her hand supporting her chin, fingers tapping on her cheek anxiously. Clarke can tell she’s in Mount Weather by the clean white walls and the huge cylindrical machine in the background._

_“Clarke! Finally,” Raven exclaims._

_“What is it?” she asks, sitting down in front of the computer._

_“I found something,” Raven carries her laptop to go inside the cylinder, pointing the camera to the screen and numerous buttons unfamiliar to Clarke._

_“I have no idea what you’re showing me.”_

_“Someone was in here. Someone used this to go to a time they weren’t supposed to.”_

_The blonde moves her head closer to the screen, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to read the jumble of numbers._

_“We haven’t used this ever since you suspended the nuclear plant mission so we could focus on looking for Onya.” Her friend continues rapidly, “I only came in here just now for the scheduled maintenance.”_

_“What’re you saying…” Clarke’s voice fades away, heart pounding in her chest._

_Raven turns the camera so it faces her again, “Clarke, I am almost one hundred percent sure Onya was here. She used it to go back. And now she’s stuck there until someone – well, meaning past me of course, builds it at that time.” She eyes the numbers and furrows her eyebrows, “Thirteen years ago. Huh. Clarke, did something happen thirteen years ago?”_

_Clarke looks away from the screen in total amazement and disbelief. Why didn’t she think of this?_

_Of course, Onya would go there._

Everything _happened thirteen years ago._

 

* * *

 

**Now**

He knows they’re being followed.

 

Whoever their pursuers are make it known that they’re after them, carelessly and uncaringly making disorderly commotion toward their group. 

 

They have been making their way up north overnight and have barely stopped ever since, cautiously avoiding civilization and only passing villages where there are known allies or possible new ones to recruit. So far, their group consists mostly of blood thirsty warriors who have fighting and intellectual abilities compared to brainless toads. But it’s as good as he can get. Brainless toads are easier to influence, easier to control and rile up to take blood for blood. And taking blood is what they precisely need, he reasons.

 

The flamekeeper can tell by the vibration underneath his feet caused by horses galloping their way toward them that this troop greatly outnumbers his own. The warriors with him, if they can even be called that, squirm in anticipation. Still, they move forward, following their newfound leader.

 

It can’t be Lexa, he thinks. He has trained the commander ever since she was little and know that this is not what she has been taught. Nor is it her style. Knowing Lexa, she would wisely corner his group on all sides, doing so in a discreet manner, truly surprising them. But the commander isn’t so wise these days. So perhaps like any of his other teachings, she also failed to recall how to properly execute a trap.

 

He finally draws his sword, causing his companions to do the same as masked men on horses finally filter through the trees. 

 

Instead of attacking though, the pursuers surround his small group, circling like a pack of vultures. 

 

“Drop your weapons, and come with us,” a man says through muffled voice.

 

Not a single person moves, though everyone’s eyes are on the man at the front of their group. The flamekeeper furrows his eyebrows in confusion at this seemingly peaceful approach. It can’t be Lexa, he repeats in his head, though a little less sure than before. Titus made sure that the tower would remain quiet once he left, the commander not noticing a thing until the morning to give them more time to get ahead. They also bear no insignia or any indication of where their loyalty lies.

 

And the only thing worse than people loyal to Lexa are those with unknown allegiance.

 

Titus raises his sword and slowly reaches for a knife on his hip, “State your purpose.”

 

“I don’t have to. Drop your weapons,” the man repeats.

 

“Then you leave us no choice,” Titus responds, confidently raising his chin in defiance. His followers attempt to mirror his poised gesture. 

 

The masked man chuckles. “You’re making this harder for yourself.”

 

“I think I’m doing the exact opposite,” he says as he throws his knife toward another masked man closest to him, blade sticking straight to his heart. 

 

After what seemed like hours long of fighting a losing battle, but was really only half of one, the flamekeeper is forced to his knees and is finally stripped of his weapons. A bag is ingloriously put over his head and he chuckles wryly at the irony of his situation. Successfully escaping a cell, the Polis tower’s no less, only to be put back in another one. Attempting to create an army to overthrow a regime, only to be humiliatingly defeated at their first battle. 

 

It isn’t too long of a walk until Titus is forced to his knees again.

 

He readily opens his eyes even before the dirty sack is completely taken off, eager to meet his captor. 

 

And when he makes eye contact with the person sitting on the makeshift throne, he couldn’t help the upward tilt of his lip. 

 

For the girl who has her left leg casually draped over the arm of her chair bears familiar scars and white paint on her face, perfectly complementing the silvery pelt adorning her shoulders.

 

The flamekeeper bows deeply. 

 

_His new Heda._

 

Ontari sneers, “You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Let’s take a break,” she interrupts as a Polis guard pleads his case and vehemently denies again and again his role in the prisoners’ escape. Clarke purses her lips, realizing a little late that she shouldn’t be making orders in the commander’s throne room.

 

The others are silent at once though. And as the blonde eyes the expanse of the room, she notes that their facial expressions differ; some looking displeased, some envious or even resentful, and some a mix of curiosity and…is that a look of respect she glimpses?

 

She looks down in an attempt to hide the flush on her cheeks, “I mean… I’d like to recommend it. To clear our heads a little.” They’ve been going around in circles questioning and interrogating the clan leaders, ambassadors, and most of the guards for hours after all. She can’t be the only one that’s drained by now.

 

The commander clears her throat, “Wanheda is right. Let’s reconvene in an hour.” She swiftly walks out and Clarke only waits several minutes until she too is filing out of the room with the others.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Clarke says as she enters their room.

 

Lexa raises an eyebrow as she pours a glass of water, “Sorry about what?”

 

“You know what,” she glares.

 

“Yes, I know.”

 

Clarke timidly walks toward the commander until they are face to face. “I know it isn’t my place. But even you looked tired.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Clarke. You were right, we all could use some time out of that stifling room. It was good timing really. I was getting ready to kill every single one of them.”

 

She laughs lightly, though she knows Lexa is likely only half joking. “I could tell,” she places her hands on her hips.

 

Lexa smiles but looks away hesitantly for a moment. “Just… just let me call it next time?”

 

She knows her and Clarke’s relationship is barely a secret anymore. But with a coalition in shambles and her position in question, perhaps it’s best that not many people see how much Lexa really values Clarke’s views and opinions. Maybe it’s wise to keep that aspect behind closed doors. This is the very thing that Onya had warned them about after all. That enough people perceiving a hint of ‘weakness’ will be the cause of her eventual downfall.  

 

“How about every time?” Clarke smiles reassuringly.

 

The commander hums appreciatively, kissing the blonde’s lips lightly before fully enfolding her in her arms. She sighs at the way Clarke immediately does the same. For a moment, she lets herself be cocooned in the comfort she’s receiving in the middle of all this turmoil. She briefly reflects on the fact that as the commander, she never thought a person’s mere presence would make her feel as such. But here she is, giving and receiving what she has always been taught as weakness.

 

Lexa only pulls away to give the other woman another kiss. She sighs again. “How could I have let this happen?” she says out loud. That’s another thing she observes to be changing. Her readiness to confess her inner insecurities and self-deprecation to someone else.

 

“Lexa…”

 

The brunette groans. “And don’t say it’s not my fault. Because it definitely is.”

 

“If it’s your fault, then it’s my fault too,” Clarke tucks a stubborn curl behind Lexa’s ear. “We were both here,” she reasons.

 

Clarke’s heart breaks at seeing Lexa torture herself about the prisoners’ escape. Though if she’s being honest, she’s doing the same exact thing. How could they have overlooked the fact that Titus had allies freely roaming around the tower? How could they dismiss this even after Onya traveled through time in an attempt to alter this very same occurrence? How could they _fucking_ mess it up and miss their chance already?

 

It’s been several days since they found the lifeless guards in the dungeons and the cells completely empty. They discovered a hidden tunnel Titus and the others must have used to leave the city in the middle of the night undetected. With only half a day ahead, Clarke and Lexa were confident that they’d be able to catch them in time. Their certainty diminished quickly though when the commander’s scouts reported that a number of the prisoners and even some warriors from surrounding villages were found dead. Titus and Riva not among them. And it is almost as if they have vanished, leaving no trail to follow.

 

“I don’t know who to trust,” Lexa says in a small voice.

 

And that’s also what has been troubling Clarke. Who else could be secretly against them? Despite her anxiety-riddled inner thoughts, she squeezes the brunette’s hips reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

 

Lexa nods, “I suppose we should get back to questioning all the clan leaders and the other ambassadors again. Let’s start with the ones from the same villages as those that were found dead with the prisoners. I’m assuming Titus recruited them on the way.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hand before letting go and opening the door. “Where’s Onya?”

 

“She’s with Octavia in my old room. I banned her from the training grounds. I told her she’s not allowed to leave since it’s not safe right now.”

 

“You know when you ask her to stay put, she does the complete opposite.”

 

The blonde tilts her head to the side and purses her lips in thought, “Yeah, you’re right.” She checks her watch and figures they have some time until they have to start the questioning again. “Want to go check?”

 

They echo each other’s smiles at the thought of seeing the girl even for a little bit. Despite the ominous clouds that have been following them around for the past couple of weeks, their hearts flutter in excitement at a tiny human being embodying the prospect of their promising future. And perhaps there is some truth behind the saying that the brightest light comes from the darkest places.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke and Lexa are still buzzing with energy by the time they arrived in the throne room.

 

They were happy to find that Onya did in fact follow instructions this time and stayed in Clarke’s old room, though it looked nothing like it did before, with all the furniture pushed against the walls and in the middle, two very sweaty people with their fists up circling each other. It seemed that nothing can keep the girl from training after all.

 

The two women watched Octavia and Onya with a look of amusement the entire time. And even now back in front of the clansmen and ambassadors, Clarke and Lexa appear as though they are bursting with pride. Imperceptible smiles on their faces, as if sharing a joke only they know about.  Their daughter flipped a grown woman on her back after all. A seasoned warrior at that.

 

The deliberation has only started when Lincoln bursts into the room and takes quick strides to where the commander stands in front of her throne.

 

Clarke wishes she could get closer to hear what he is whispering rapidly in Lexa’s ear without drawing attention. By the sight of the commander’s jaw tightening and her hands in tight fists, the blonde can tell it isn’t good news at all.

 

Lexa’s eyes land on Clarke’s first before turning her attention to everyone else. In her best Heda booming voice, she practically growls, “Polis is under attack. The enemies are just miles away from the city gates. If you are loyal to me like you insist you are, then prove it. Fight by my side.”

 

Clarke is dazed at the sight of Lexa and the deafening roar from every man and woman in the room in support of their Heda. The goosebumps that appear on her skin don’t leave for hours.

 

When they are out of earshot of everyone else as they walk back to their quarters to prepare, the blonde holds up a finger, already knowing what the other woman plans to say, “You are not starting this. I’m coming with you this time.”

 

She looks at the commander then, who only raises an eyebrow in response. Clarke doesn’t miss the small smile that Lexa does that she has come to love so much.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Here it goes,” Raven whispers out loud as she positions the power cord in her hand, ready to be plugged from the solar power source she had set up outside of the tower.

 

She has been working tirelessly by herself all night ever since Wick and Monty came back from their trip to gather more of the blue stones they needed. She hasn’t had any sleep and barely any food. Her body is practically begging for her to rest.

 

But she couldn’t possibly stop. Once she had all of the supplies she needed, her exhaustion was quickly forgotten. She only had one focus in her mind. To get this damn time machine working.

 

She checks the inside of the cylinder again and makes sure for the twentieth time that everything is correctly in place. “Check. Check. And Check,” she mutters.

 

“Okay – here it goes,” she says again, though no one else is in the room with her. Everyone has probably already left the tower for the battle. Only Onya should be here by now. She radioed Octavia almost an hour ago. “Where is this kid?” she asks herself impatiently.

 

Raven wanted to wait until the girl has arrived just to be certain the machine looks as how it will. Figuring there’s no harm in starting it up, the brunette shrugs her shoulders, “here it goes,” she says one last time as she finally connects the plug.

 

Nothing happens.

 

She goes inside the machine and examines everything again, even going as far as unplugging and plugging it back in.

 

Nothing.

 

No big dramatic lights. No loud sound. Not even a spark.

 

“Damn it,” she curses.

 

Figuring she might be able to resolve it better with a clear head after at least a couple of hours of rest, Raven turns toward the door with her shoulders hunched in disappointment.

 

She stops on her tracks though as a low hum reaches her ears, causing her to slowly turn to face her handiwork once again.

 

And there’s those dramatic blue lights practically exploding from the inside of the machine. And the hum that is now magnified to a piercing whirring sound. And that bright spark from its surface illuminating the once dim room.

 

Her mouth hangs open. “Holy shit,” she laughs. She’s now kicking herself for not waiting until someone else is with her to appreciate her achievement.

 

Raven jumps in place and covers her face with her arms as a loud bang penetrates the room, practically shaking the floor underneath her feet. She slowly brings her arms down when no bullet or any kind of weapon strikes her.

 

The brunette is then frozen in place, eyes widening at once as one by one, men and women armed to the teeth exit the machine, each one passing her with a respectful nod as they walk out of the room.

 

And when the last person files out, Raven swears her breathing completely ceases.

 

For though the woman wears a cloak, there is absolutely no mistaking who it is.

 

The long scar on her face, the blond wisps peeking out of her hood, and those familiar piercing blue eyes that connect with hers as she too passes by Raven with a nod.

 

It must have been long moments, minutes, maybe even hours after she is left by herself that the brunette finally exhales.

 

She turns to the now open door and wonders for a moment if she just had a hallucination.

 

“Holy shit,” she repeats.

 

 


	19. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to take this time to give us a little bit of a background of why Onya is the way she is - plus imagining a four year old Onya just sounds cute af. 
> 
> Aaaaand to also continue the story :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**_Ten Years into the Future_ **

****

_There is something to be said about being born into a family in power._

_As the Heda and Wanheda’s only child, Onya is afforded many things and experiences most, if not all other children of all the lands are not._

_Though there was only a simple celebration with her family and friends when she turned one, Onya received gifts from all the clan leaders and practically everyone in Polis that Clarke and Lexa had to designate a big room in the tower to put all of them in. There were so many presents that her parents started to give most away to other children. She even received her very own horse that she wouldn’t have been ready to ride until years later._

_Onya of course didn’t understand then, but Clarke and Lexa felt it for her. Warmed by the overwhelming fact that their daughter was so loved by many already. And she hadn’t even uttered her first word._

_When she turned two, she received her first sword crafted by the most skilled blacksmith, and made with the finest, rarest of steel. The girl was so delighted with the shiny object that she had the mind to stack books on top of a chair just to get a hold of it. Clarke was quick to store it in a box with a lock much to Lexa’s protests when they found Onya dumbfoundedly enraptured with it in her hand. The commander boasted for days about the fact that as young as she was, her daughter held the weapon properly and firmly._

_Onya didn’t know then that she was one of the very few who will ever own such a thing._

_By the time that she turned three, she had visited all of the clans as part of a new custom that a commander’s child be welcomed by their people from every clan. Though Clarke and Lexa were nervous traveling with their daughter during such unpredictable times, they also understood the importance of demonstrating that the commander can have a family while being a capable leader. It also helped that the girl outwardly showed curiosity and interest in everything she saw, gasping and beaming at every foreign object that she laid eyes on._

_Onya didn’t realize then that not even half of their people have had the opportunity to see all the lands they have discovered so far._

_Despite the extra attention she gets being the first child of a commander, Clarke and Lexa try their hardest to make sure she also experiences a somewhat normal childhood._

_At four summers of age, Onya attends school in the mornings to learn how to read and write like all other children in Polis do. In the afternoons, she trains with blunt swords and other weapons deemed safe enough for her age group. She is taught survival skills such as hunting, swimming in the deepest of oceans, and creating fire out of practically nothing. During her spare time, she plays with her friends, making bets on who can climb a tree the fastest and who can outrun who._

_Like her parents, Onya has established a daily routine that she looks forward to every day. She equally loves reading, drawing, training, and playing. And the best part is, at the end of the day, she gets to relive it with her two favorite people._

_“Guess what I did today,” the girl exclaims as she storms into her parents’ room barefooted. She holds up a piece of paper, grinning widely._

_Clarke takes the time from setting up the table to pause and roam her eyes on the child’s artwork. “Good job. Looks exactly like it,” she smiles._

_“Looks exactly like what?” Lexa squints her eyes as she leans closer. As far as she can tell, the backdrop is just a lopsided square with blobs in front of it. That earns her a slight nudge on the ribs._

_“Like the Polis tower,” Clarke points at the crooked building, watching her wife nod slowly. “And who are these people?”_

_“That’s me, and you, and nomon,” Onya grins._

_The commander chuckles at the smiling stick figures. She’d be right to guess that the one on the left is Clarke, holding what could pass as a paintbrush, the one on the right is her, holding what looks like a sword, and the one in the middle is Onya, both hands gripping theirs. She takes the drawing and places it on the bookshelf, “How about we place it right here for everyone to see?”_

_The girl nods eagerly, climbing up a chair to sit on as dinner is brought in, continuing her endless tales of her day._

_At the end of the night, as she typically does, Onya wears herself out from talking and laughing so much. She tries her hardest holding back her yawns, not wanting to miss out on anything as children tend to do. She inevitably succumbs to sleep though and senses herself being carried to her own bed, and hears soft murmurs of_ I love you _’s, coupled with tender kisses on her forehead._

_Even in her drowsy state, she opens one eye and smiles as her parents quietly retreat to their own room hand in hand._

_She feels like the luckiest girl in the world._

_There is something to be said about being born into a family in power._

_But if one were to say as such to Onya then, she’d respond that there is everything to be said about being born into a family, a loving one at that – nothing more, and nothing less._

* * *

 

_She has been sitting on a branch of the highest tree she could find for what seems like hours after Indra told her that Heda and Wanheda are scheduled to be back earlier than expected that afternoon._

_Her parents have been away for over a week, delegating some matters in the lands down south._

_She knows the current state of the coalition is slowly deteriorating, what with the random attacks from all over that has been happening and the excessive number of guards that now trail her on a daily basis._

_She knows that these ‘matters’ are either negotiations or battles Clarke and Lexa must attend to. It was never explicitly explained to her, though it never had to be either. Onya is very clever even as a young child, inheriting the most sought-after qualities that made her parents be in a position of power in the first place._

_She is just about to lean back and take a nap when she catches sight of the commander’s banner miles away. The girl drops down to the ground so suddenly that her guards jump back in surprise, who, after a moment of composing themselves run after Onya._

_“They’re here,” she heaves out, standing next to Indra in front of the massive doors of their home._

_The flamekeeper barely looks in her direction and only nods tightly, standing ever so tall even while resting her weight on her right side with a wooden cane._

_She doesn’t know why, but perhaps it’s just simple intuition that it’s not exactly good news that her parents are back so early from their trip._

_And by the commander’s taut expression as she dismounts her horse and rapidly orders the guards surrounding them, Onya is right to assume it’s definitely not good news. Lexa only visibly softens when she sees her daughter rushing toward them._

_“What happened?” the girl asks. “Where’s…?” she trails as she sees the blonde’s slackened form being carried toward the tower. She feels her eyes sting with tears. “Is she…?”_

_“She’s alive and will wake up soon,” Lexa is quick to reassure, picking the girl up in her arms and kissing her suddenly tear-stained cheek. “Come on, she’d be happy to see you when she does.”_

_It turns out that their group had been ambushed. Onya overhears her nomon tell her grandmother that Clarke pushed Lexa out of the way at the last second, causing her arm to be struck by an arrow. The arrow was poisoned, but they were luckily close enough to Polis to ride back the same day for an antidote._

_Abby shakes her head, “It’s getting dangerous out there, Lexa.”_

_“I know. I’m sorry. I never wished this for her,” the brunette sighs, closing her eyes tightly._

_Abby’s eyes soften at the confession. She knows that Lexa wants nothing but the best for her family and for her people, and that she’ll never stop trying to strive for exactly that. They’ve certainly come a long way over the years._

_“Well, you know whatever you and I tell her, she’ll keep doing what she wants,” Abby gestures her arm around the room with a resigned smile, “And this is what she wants.”_

_Abby has long stopped trying to get Clarke to go back to Arkadia with her. She never imagined fearing for her daughter’s life on a daily basis. Though she also never imagined seeing Clarke as happy as she has been ever since Lexa came into her life. And even more when Onya was born. Abby simply couldn’t be more proud of the woman Clarke has become, and she has Lexa to thank for that._

_Lexa smiles weakly, “Yes.”_

_They are interrupted by a soft groan and Onya is the first one at the blonde’s side. “Mom?” she whispers._

_Clarke slowly opens her eyes with a smile already on her lips, “Hey kiddo. I’ve missed you.”_

_The girl moves her head closer cautiously, “Are you okay?”_

_“Of course I’m okay.” She extends her hand, “Come here, I haven’t seen you in so long.”_

_She carefully climbs the tall bed and holds her mom’s warm hand, feeling the tight knots in her stomach loosen and her breathing finally return to normal. She’ll remember this moment as the first time she truly experiences relief, before she even really knows the meaning of the word. She also already realizes that it won’t be the last._

_Onya squeals at her mom’s antics when Clarke pulls her in for a hug and squeezes her with her good arm, kissing her head over and over again._

_Later that night, she hears the two women talking in low voices while laying on each of her sides, hands firmly clasped on her stomach, seemingly unwilling to let the girl out of their sights after being away for over a week. Onya wills her breathing to stay even, pretending to stay asleep._

_“I feel like she grew from the last time we saw her,” Clarke says._

_“It’s possible,” Lexa agrees. “Children grow very fast even in a span of weeks.”_

_The blonde sighs gloomily, and Onya figures it must be because they have to be away from Polis more often than they would like. “She’s still cute as shit,” Clarke smiles, tucking a brown curl behind the girl’s ear._

_“What did I say about cursing in front of her?”_

_“Oh relax, she’s sleeping,” the blonde replies dismissively. She tilts her head to the side in wonder. “We made that,” she grins._

_Lexa chuckles. “We did. She_ is _cute,” she agrees. They are quiet only for a moment, content in just watching the girl sleep. “Never ever do that again,” Lexa whispers._

_Onya already knows her mom must be rolling her eyes at this._

_“Look, when I married you, I vowed to protect you and our family. Just as you did. And just as you do every day. That’s never going to change.”_

_She hears her nomon groan quietly in frustration, knowing that is the end of the conversation when her mom says things as such._

_And that night, Onya silently vows to do the same._

_Several weeks later, despite the steady hoof beats ringing in their ears, Clarke and Lexa hear a strange noise coming from the cart behind them. It’s the first time they are traveling after the incident, and they are cautious enough to double the number of warriors with them. They have been riding for hours, keeping a rapid pace to reach TonDC before they make their way to Mount Weather to inspect the new wing being added to the building._

_“What the hell is that?” Clarke turns to Lexa with her eyebrows furrowed._

_“It sounds like someone is snoring.” Lexa holds up a hand to stop the group and examine the source of the noise. After a few minutes, the commander emerges to the front of the troop, showing Clarke who she has in tow. “I knew that snore sounded familiar.”_

_Clarke eyes the girl’s hanging head at being found, hair in such disarray with hay stuck all over her brown curls. “Onya,” she sighs. “What’re you doing here?”_

_“You never take me with you. I wanted to come,” she pouts._

_Just as the blonde is about to ask one of the guards to take her back, Lexa helps the girl up her horse and climbs up behind her. Clarke stares dumbfoundedly, “What’re you doing?”_

_“She wants to come. So we’re taking her,” the commander says with finality. She looks at Onya, placing the reins on her hands, “Remember what I taught you?”_

_Clarke wants to protest and one by one list the many possible perils they may encounter on the road. But she bites her tongue. She doesn’t have it in her when she sees her daughter smiling widely, excitedly holding the reins in front of her, and especially when she sees Lexa mirroring that smile._

_She turns to her wife instead, “We’ll talk about this later.”_

* * *

 

 

 

**Now**

“Talk about what?”

 

Clarke glares at the brunette and speaks through gritted teeth, “You know what.”

 

And the commander does. If she feels guilty or any type of way about it, she doesn’t show it. Only keeps her eyes straight ahead as they ride out to meet their attackers.

 

Onya as it turns out, did not make it to the room where Raven is currently working on the time machine. Instead, they found her in a cart full of weapons, hiding under a tarp. Octavia should have known by now that the girl is very good at evading her once Onya disappeared so suddenly after Raven radioed earlier. Rather than sending her back to the tower though, Lexa appoints several guards to accompany her at the front of the Polis gates, far away from the battle but close enough to see everything from a distant vantage point.

 

“And _you_ know she’ll just follow us with no protection if we send her back. It’s better this way.”

 

Clarke nods in defeat. In the short time that they’ve known the girl, she knows Lexa has a point. Onya is getting a little predictable with her actions. “You’re right,” she concedes. She turns her head at the mention of her name behind her.

 

“Yes, Clarke is here,” Octavia holds up the radio to her ear and scrunches her face before pressing the button. “Raven, I _know_ that Clarke is here. I’m literally looking at her as we speak,” she repeats louder.

 

The blonde raises an eyebrow at the way the mechanic is practically shouting garbled words through the radio, “What does she want?”

 

Octavia shrugs her shoulders, “I have no fucking clue.” She impatiently presses the button again, “What was that? You’re cutting off.” She snaps her eyes up as she hears the commander shout an order of attack, gaze instantly falling on men and women on horses hastily riding towards them, weapons already drawn.  

 

“Raven, I’ll talk to you later. We’re…a little busy here.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Her thoughts must be running a mile a minute.

 

Despite the way her body moves subconsciously, impressively attacking and counterattacking anyone that come near, the commander’s brain doesn’t seem to want to be silenced. Its gears turning rapidly and every which way.

 

In all the years that she has been the commander, there have been countless adversaries that have attempted to take her down, annihilate the very foundations she so meticulously constructed for her people. All of those attempts have been thwarted, some before they even started. And she’s been convincing herself that this is just like any of those other times. That she’d conquer this hurdle and come out as a better commander for her people.

 

But she isn’t just the commander anymore, is she?

 

And this doesn’t at all feel like any of those other times.

 

This one feels too close to home.

 

_Home_. Lexa finally has that with Clarke. Lexa finally has a family.

 

And of course the commander in her will always _always_ want the best for her people. She wants them to experience peace. To never go a day without food. To never live in fear. To never be afraid to love. That has been her dream ever since she was a child and found out what it means to be a natblida. Ever since she was taken away from her parents and her small village life for a possible chance to be the next Heda. Ever since she made the ultimate sacrifice of sullying her soul and one by one took the lives of those she considered her brothers and sisters in order to become the commander.

 

As blood splatters on her face from cutting a man’s neck, Lexa wonders, are these the very same people she wishes those things for?

 

She looks around for a moment, squinting her eyes against the midday sun beating down, and notices that Titus and his accomplices are still nowhere in sight. _Cowards,_ she spits out.

 

The battle is fast paced and grueling. More enemies are coming their way, most from the Ice Nation she notes, rapidly overpowering the measly number of warriors she has. And she asks herself, why should she want these good things for them when they clearly don’t want the same for her?

 

She ducks just in time when a woman comes charging with an oversized axe that would have surely obliterated her. Lexa doesn’t even have time to breathe before the woman is attacking again, and the commander growls as she sidesteps her attacker and pierces her ribs with a sword, exhaling as the body finally hits the ground.

 

She’s just absolutely exhausted.

 

And for the first time since she ascended as Heda, she truly questions if she can just leave it all behind. If she can leave them all to fend for themselves. She never wanted the power that came with the title of commander after all, and that’s what they want right?

 

But then Lexa looks at those that are still by her side, believing and trusting her as their Heda. Those that are still willingly fighting for her, defending the coalition, and protecting what they know is right.

 

She glances at Clarke who is impressively carrying her own weight, fluently wielding a sword that looks like it is an extension of her body, even confidently winking and smirking at Lexa the one moment their eyes meet on the battlefield.

 

She sees Onya in her peripheral vision, hiding behind a sparse shrub as the girl nervously bites her fingernails in anxiety.

 

And Lexa thinks, no – she knows, these are the reasons why she is the commander. Because she wants the best for her people and they deserve just that. And if she’s going to be as good of a commander she is, Lexa also knows she needs her family and she’s also willing to fight for that. With her invigorated purpose, the commander picks up another sword, twirling one in each of her hands, daring anyone to come closer.

 

_Wait a second_.

 

The commander turns to her left and locks eyes with the girl who is definitely not supposed to be behind a shrub, and who is predictably not surrounded by guards as she ordered. “Onya,” she growls.

 

Lexa starts to make her way toward her but is blocked by a venturing group one by one trying to make a go at the commander, and one by one failing. The next group of people are not as unwise as they strike in twos. And then threes. And then fours.

 

Until she doesn’t know which part of her body is bleeding more and she is heaving in exhaustion and all she has left is a knife on her waist that she immediately throws at a woman standing a little too close to her daughter.

 

_Run_ , she begs Onya to comprehend when their eyes meet again. She doesn’t wait to see if the girl actually complies as she looks forward again.

 

Lexa is surrounded. And weaponless.

 

They encircle her as if she’s a criminal awaiting her execution, and they, the delighted spectators.

 

They stand back to watch the commander fall as one boldly advances, a sharp pointy end of a spear directed towards her that, if she is estimating correctly, will reach her in about a minute. Lexa looks around for a moment in panic, searching for any kind of weapon close enough for her to get a hold of.

 

_Jok_ , she curses. There’s none.

 

In the millisecond these thoughts enter and exit her brain, the commander shrugs her shoulders and spreads her feet apart, holding her hands up. _Fists it is_ , she thinks. The spectators laugh and the man in pursuit of her smirks, confidently twirling his weapon in his hand. Lexa only sneers at the sheer arrogance. They clearly have never seen the Heda fight and kill with her bare hands before. And she almost can’t wait to demonstrate exactly how.

 

The man lunges forward with an irritating grin still on his face.

 

And then he stops abruptly. The confidence now replaced with utter shock.

 

Grin, now a grimace as he looks down at his chest that has a golden arrow impressively and directly embedded on what Lexa knows is the part of one’s chest that houses the heart.

 

The commander had been so occupied that she hadn’t noticed it before. Didn’t pay attention to the increasingly growing louder noise of horses galloping towards them that is now ringing in her ears. She turns around to find men and women in all shapes and forms impressively and calculatedly assembled line after line. Their faces are marked and painted with assorted designs and colors yet their armors are decorated alike, presumably signifying different clans fighting for one cause. They are armed with various types of weapons that they are already using to cut through their enemy.

 

She briefly wonders if the aid she sent for from the surrounding clans have arrived, though the thought is fleeting as she knows it would take for the closest one at least another hour to reach them.

 

Even through her confusion, Lexa darts to pick up as many weapons as she can from fallen warriors. Though as she stands upright, she pauses.

 

Despite the group of people surrounding the cloaked figure in the middle, the commander knows this one is the leader of their unknown saviors. She presumes this one must be the source of the golden arrow. Her suspicion is confirmed when the figure stretches an arm and releases another arrow to a warrior in pursuit of Clarke. And then another. And then another. One by one effortlessly picking off those surrounding Clarke and the commander.

 

Lexa follows the leader’s gaze now staring straight ahead at a girl with wild hair who has absolutely no business being in the middle of a battle, dashing to a crumbling building. She watches as the unknown leader scoots their body forward and rides toward the said girl.

 

“Behind you,” the leader breathes out in a somewhat familiar voice as she charges past the commander, who for a moment, stands in a daze, utterly entranced at the quick turn of events.

 

Lexa turns around just in time to slash a man’s neck, before she too is running toward Onya.

 

She stops in her tracks though as she sees Clarke in her peripheral vision, fighting off a man practically three times her size.

 

“Don’t. You. Dare.” the blonde says through gritted teeth, reading Lexa’s conflicted mind of whether she should help Clarke or follow the mysterious woman in pursuit of their daughter.

 

She growls and swiftly hurls a knife to the man’s leg to at least impede him, confident that Clarke won’t have any problems dealing with an injured enemy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa doesn’t at all know what to expect.

 

Sure, this mysterious woman came to their aid just in time when they very badly needed it. But she’s still just that, a mystery. A mystery that ran after Onya with a serious intent after the very moment her eyes made contact with the girl.

 

Her mind conjures many different scenarios as she runs toward her destination. She imagines hearing a scream or perhaps seeing some kind of signs of struggle.

 

But as the commander’s foot crosses the threshold of the dilapidated structure and doesn’t hear or see either of those, she breathes out a half sigh of relief, lowering her weapon only minutely. She still hasn’t found Onya after all.

 

Lexa cautiously makes her way through the quiet dingy halls, practically tip toeing over discarded metal and rubble, and scanning the remarkably high dome ceiling that serves as the main source of light in the structure. Though she has passed this very same building countless times traveling in and out of Polis, she’s ashamed to admit that she had never been inside the massive place. She quietly grumbles to herself at the surprisingly big area she’ll have to cover before possibly finding anyone.

 

On what must have been the tenth hall she has been ambling in, she turns her head quickly as she finally hears a very faint murmur, most likely inaudible to untrained ears. But Lexa hears it. Lexa follows it like a long lost map she is just now remembering. She furrows her eyebrows at the sudden shift in the air. And the way that soft voice inexplicably pulls her in like a moth to a flame concerns her. Perhaps even frightens her if she is being honest.

 

There is only one other person that has ever caused such a reaction before after all.

 

Regardless, though the commander feels perturbed, she doesn’t show it. Doesn’t let it slow her down toward the fire she wants to so badly touch.

 

_“Why did you do that?”_ the voice says. Much more clear now as she gets closer. But still soft. Still warm.

 

_“I’m sorry. I was scared.”_

It seems as if her sense of hearing all of a sudden stops functioning though as Lexa rounds the final corner and she sees the two at the end of the hall. The mysterious woman is on her knees with her arms around the girl, her gray cloak beautifully draped across the floor, and Onya affectionately grasping her still hidden face.

 

_Who are you?_ Lexa wants to ask. But she couldn’t possibly open her mouth for some bizarre reason she can’t quite comprehend. Could only stand there feeling as if she’s intruding on a private reunion. Still, the commander doesn’t move.

 

“She’s…she’s alive?” she hears the girl ask. And if the dim lighting isn’t playing a trick on her, Lexa thinks she sees a smile work its way across Onya’s face and into her widening eyes. She almost gasps at the utter elation and the girl’s newly revived youth that she somehow lost in the midst of all this mess. 

 

These past months, she has been proven wrong over and over again. Lexa never thought it was possible to feel as such. That pure unadulterated feeling of ecstasy only a child can bring out of people. That contagious euphoria that Lexa can’t help but to feel warm in her stomach and to mirror the girl’s still smiling face. 

 

One moment the commander is in awe of the scene before her, a ghost of a smile on her lips. And the next, she’s baring her teeth and reaching for a knife as she turns her body to heave her weapon at an assassin. Or a would-be assassin had she not acted quickly.

 

It seems as if Lexa and this woman are on the same page as she notices two knives lodged in the man’s chest, practically in the same spot.

 

“Nice,” the woman comments in amusement as the man collapses to the floor theatrically.

 

Lexa quickly turns her head to that voice.  

 

Her cloak has fallen from the motion, finally revealing the woman underneath.

 

And Lexa is left completely speechless.

 

She takes several hesitant steps forward, tilting her head to the side as if searching for an angle with a better lighting that will make sense of all this. She stops abruptly when she finds a spot where the sun streams in just enough to illuminate the hall.  

 

Lexa breathes out incredulously, not even attempting to close her mouth now hanging open at the golden glint reflecting from the glass window onto the woman’s form.

 

She looks nothing short of _ethereal_.

 

And the way that Lexa’s heart is pounding in her chest, practically wanting to jump out of her skin is disconcerting.

 

There is only one other person that has ever affected her as such before after all.

 

“Hey babe,” the woman smiles, raising an eyebrow coyly when Lexa finally meets her eyes.  

 

They regard each other for a long moment, silent and unmoving, all the while Onya is clutching onto the woman’s leg, eyes darting back and forth between the two. They are only interrupted by echoes of heavy footsteps, much too loud for the vacant building. Much too loud for the profound setting.

 

“Sorry about that,” Clarke breathes out heavily as she rounds the corner, resting her hands on her knees.  She gestures to the fallen assassin, her head still tilted down as she heaves in exhaustion, “That one got away from me.”

 

The commander looks at Clarke and then at the woman, and then back again.

 

“Clarke?” she asks in panic, unsheathing her swords from her back in one swift motion.

 

Lexa points one to her left and one to her right, her head still flitting back and forth in confusion.

 

“Clarke?!”

 

 

 


	20. Twenty

 

 

He stands on a hill overlooking the battle from a distance with his hands folded behind his back, leisurely watching everything unfold. Waiting ever patiently to witness the commander’s demise.

 

It wasn’t quite what he had planned for Alexandria.

 

The flamekeeper wanted all of the clan leaders to witness his former Heda’s downfall. If not just to publicly appoint the new Heda to avoid confusion and deter possible usurpers, then to at least demonstrate Lexa’s weakness to all and to justify her necessary elimination.

 

Titus couldn’t voice his desire of a proper way to carry out his plans. Not when his and Ontari’s relationship is too new and unpredictable, her temper even more so. Little by little though, he is confident he is getting somewhere. Very much close to splintering the young nightblood’s resistance and letting him steer her in the right direction. He is the closest to an ally and a mentor she has after all.

 

So despite the sudden and reckless attack Ontari had planned that he very much opposed to and the cowardly way his new Heda stands on the hill with him rather than being in the battle herself, the flamekeeper kept his opinions to himself. He reluctantly agreed, deciding that they have the numbers that he knows will undoubtedly annihilate Lexa’s warriors in Polis alone. With Ontari’s army that she cleverly stole under King Roan’s nose and the lack of reinforcement Polis will receive in such short notice, today might very well be the day his former Heda will fall.

 

And perhaps it helps to set the stage that Lexa will do just that alongside the very person who started it all. The person who found a way to dismantle all of his teachings over the years that have produced the magnificent commander Lexa was. The person who threatens to ruin the very foundation Titus so calculatedly curated over the years that allowed Lexa to establish the coalition and in turn improve the lives of their people.

 

Even now, Titus raises an eyebrow as he watches Lexa distracted during the battle, taking her eyes off of her enemies every few minutes to check on Clarke, blatantly showing her lack of concern for herself and anyone else but the Skai girl. Unashamedly demonstrating her weakness. Surely, Lexa couldn’t have forgotten that fast.

 

Doesn’t she remember the very first thing he taught her?

 

Doesn’t she consider what nearly ruined her not too long ago?

 

Doesn’t she recall what destroyed the commander before her?

 

Doesn’t she think of his accounts of commanders from the past and how this very thing she is failing to resist not only led to their demise but also put the lives of their people greatly at risk?

 

Titus has witnessed their people suffer through too much already while commanders spent their time preoccupied with insignificant things rather than focusing on what was the best for their people. He has been around for too long standing on the sidelines while one person’s emotions jeopardize humanity’s very survival.

 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the inscrutable appeal of it all. When he was a young man serving as an apprentice to the late flamekeeper, he himself felt those emotions for someone, and even for a short period of time embraced the bliss that came with it. His former mentor’s teachings of love being weakness fell on deaf ears even as stories of past commanders making the same mistakes over and over again resurfaced in his studies.

 

But then he witnessed firsthand the then-commander succumbing to its power, day by day deteriorating when her lover had left her for another. In turn, she neglected her duties, allowing the mountain men to grow stronger over time that killed thousands and thousands of their people.

 

He had seen his people live in fear. Imprisoned in their own lands. Starved in confinement.

 

Titus swore then that he’d never allow himself to feel such things again. When he rose to his position as the flamekeeper, he could only hope that the next commander would have the same sentiment.

 

And then came Lexa.

 

Even as a young nightblood before she ascended, Lexa showed unique abilities no commander ever had. She was quiet but observant, only speaking when she had something valuable to say. Titus remembers being taken aback by such meaningful words coming from a small girl. She wasn’t the strongest in her group, but she was certainly the most determined, always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave the training grounds. Lexa was conventional but open-minded, surprising everyone around her with her progressive ideas while maintaining their ways. She was focused and driven, and for a short period of time, Titus even started to believe that perhaps Lexa would be the first commander to successfully do her duty while taking on a lover.

 

Until it became apparent that that wouldn’t be the case. Until Lexa started paying more and more attention to an ordinary young lady and even making long term plans that included her.

 

Titus was quick to react, thankfully. A few whispers in the right ears was all it took. Words of her great value and her whereabouts relayed to the most vengeful queen he knew, and just like that, Costia was gone, allowing his legacy to continue. 

 

He had planned on doing a similar thing to the Skai girl. But he was confident Lexa had learned her lesson and would not fall into an entrapment of emotions again, especially with Clarke detesting her so after the betrayal at the mountain. Titus realized it too late that he was wrong. That Lexa is _again_ willing to put her people’s lives on the line for something as trivial as _love_. He’s ashamed to admit that he was even more wrong about the Skai girl who is more clever than he first thought, constantly evading her ill-fated destiny that every plan he had set out to rid him of Clarke had been repeatedly thwarted.

 

_Not this time_ , he thinks smugly as he eyes the blonde looking very exhausted, losing her footing from the incessant onslaught from the man she is currently facing.

_It’s a shame that Lexa has to go down with you_ , he sighs mournfully. Though it pains him to see someone he has cared for and has vowed to devote his life to expire under such humiliating circumstances, Titus is aware it is what needs to happen. Because unlike her, he intends to keep his vow in preserving the norm and restoring the proper order of the coalition by any means necessary.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by a sudden angry snarl. “You said no one would be coming for _hours,”_ Ontari glowers.

 

Titus eyes the expanse of the battlefield again, taking note of their newly arrived company in unfamiliar armors, expertly surrounding their own. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, unconsciously putting one foot in front of the other in an attempt to see better and recognize their identity, “They weren’t supposed to...”

 

She stands in front him, face so close to his that he almost takes a step back. “Then why are they here _already_ , flamekeeper?”

 

He could only swallow audibly, straightening his back in an attempt to feign confidence. “I must have calculated incorrectly. My apologies, Heda,” he bows his head.

 

They watch in silence as the tables suddenly turn and their warriors gradually get slaughtered. Their numbers progressively dwindling caused by the mysterious reinforcement their enemy unexpectedly produced.

 

“Well, what do you suggest? Should we call for those on the battlefield to fall back?” she asks in panic.

 

The flamekeeper can barely keep himself from sighing exasperatingly at the young nightblood’s novice approach. She has much to learn. “Doing so will alert them of our position, Heda. We still have more than half of your warriors hidden in our camp. I suggest we take this is a loss and bid our time for a better opportunity.” _Just as I suggested_ , he wants to add.

 

Ontari scoffs, “Fine. Let’s hear this plan of yours again.” She mounts her horse but turns her body to face him, snarling threateningly, “But if I find any hint of betrayal, I assure you, I am not as merciful as Alexandria.” She rides away without another word, her entourage following closely behind.

 

He narrows his lips when everyone is out of sight. He looks for his former commander and sees Lexa running to a nearby decrepit building, leaving behind her men. For what reason, he can’t begin to guess anymore. He is sure it doesn’t at all have anything to do with their people.

 

The flamekeeper mounts his horse, eyes sweeping the battlefield one last time. He feels Riva’s disbelieving widened eyes on him as she slowly figures out that they’re retreating and leaving them for dead. This one too, though regrettably valuable, is a necessary loss, he reasons.  

 

He sighs at another failed attempt to overthrow Lexa as the commander and he guesses that the road ahead will be very long indeed. Even so, he thinks he can be patient.

 

_Kos hodnes laik kwelnes_.

 

And it will get you killed.

 

No matter how long it takes, he’ll make sure of that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She’s being ridiculous and she knows it.

 

Clarke tries to keep her breathing under control, willing her chest to stay in place and make it appear as if she’s not struggling to catch her breath even when she is positively gasping for all the air she can get. The lift at the Polis tower all of a sudden decided to stop functioning conveniently after the most tiring battle she’s ever fought and they were forced to climb up what she thinks is close to a million steps to get to the commander’s level. How in the hell she’s the only one in the group practically dying after that, she has no damn clue. She concluded that that was for sure a sabotage. And this she knows, is also ridiculous.

 

The blonde leans on the back of an armchair in the commander’s room, attempting to look relaxed, which looks more like a very strained pose as she watches Lexa and... the other… much older looking Clarke talk in low voices and exchange shy smiles at each other. She even notices this over-confident Clarke lightly grazing Lexa’s elbow flirtatiously. She rolls her eyes hard at that. And then she does it again almost immediately for rolling her eyes at… well, technically herself.

 

She’s being _absolutely_ ridiculous, and she fucking knows it.

 

But she’s also just seriously so tired. Now that the battle is over with and the adrenaline has left her system, all her body wants to do is rest. And she wants nothing more but to close her eyes for a very long time and curl up next to Lexa. Clarke eyes their massive bed longingly and the soft furs that have never looked so enticing. And then she lets her gaze fall back on the other two women in the room with her. And there’s that hand on Lexa’s elbow again that has the commander grinning a little too widely. Clearly they’re not on the same page about resting considering they probably have only had several hours of sleep within the last days.

 

Clarke wills her eyes to stay in place this time but crosses her arms. And then she uncrosses them again to appear as if she is as poised as this older Clarke. She shakes her head at herself. Because why the fuck is she so bothered that Lexa’s paying attention to another woman when that other woman is _literally_ her?

 

Clarke is just thankful they’re safely back in the tower now. For a minute, she honestly wasn’t sure if she was going to survive the day. Not exactly from the battle, though there were plenty of times she was cornered by men and women much stronger and more experienced with fighting than her. But what really scared her was the look in Lexa’s eyes when she was standing in between two women that look exactly the same, only different in some ways.

 

Lexa looked frightened, confused, and extremely pissed that moment, and Clarke could only hold up her hands in an effort to placate the commander and not get killed by her girlfriend. It was only when the other Clarke stepped in that Lexa was able to finally calm down.

 

 

_“Clarke?!”_

_Lexa bares her teeth as if she’s a victim of some kind of witchcraft trickery. She shifts to her left and then to her right, conflicted on who to approach first._

_“What?” Clarke asks, holding her hands up in confusion. She moves her head to the side to see just what in the hell is making Lexa act this way. “Oh,” she mouths as she finally sees the woman at the other end of the hall._

_Her hair is a lot shorter. The scar on her face has long healed, white in color now against her suntanned skin. She’s leaner, and she has impressive tattoos up and down her arms. She stands a little straighter with an air of composure that Clarke has only ever felt from Lexa. She’s simply fucking_ beautiful. _And it’s_ her.

Well that explains it _, she thinks, though she still doesn’t exactly know what to say._

_Lexa is still seething in bewilderment and Clarke actually considers running far far away from a fuming perplexed commander that could very well kill her without moving from her spot._

_“Lexa,” the woman calls, a gentle lilt in her voice. “Babe.”_

_The brunette looks at her, her weapons still raised. “Who are you?” she breathes out, chest visibly heaving._

_“It’s just me. Clarke…” she says, putting her arm around Onya who is grasping her legs tightly. “From a later time. I just… I just came to get Onya. It’s okay Lexa, you can put your swords down. It’s okay.”_

_The commander’s stance visibly relaxes at her words. After what seems to be the longest five minutes of Clarke’s life, Lexa finally slowly lowers her weapons, looking at the two women at each end of the hall with a much softer look of comprehension and astonishment this time._

 

 

Clarke remembers the awkward trek back to the Polis tower and how Lexa must have given herself a whiplash from incessantly looking back and forth between the two. She eventually had to ask her to stop, though she knew Lexa wouldn’t. Now that they’re back in the tower, it seems that the commander’s attention is solely on this other woman. And of course older Clarke seems to be more charming too. Clarke clenches her jaw as she hears Lexa chuckle at something whispered into her ear.

 

Her irrational jealousy is thankfully disrupted by the doors being thrown open that has the commander growling in annoyance at whoever it is that’s bold enough to enter without waiting to be announced or even knocking first.

 

Clarke already knows who it is without looking.

 

“I knew it!” Raven exclaims as she barges into the room, throwing her hands in the air and even dramatically swiping the back of one on her forehead.

 

Lexa grits her teeth, ready to do some serious reprimanding at the rude interruption. Clarke’s friends are luckily saved from the onslaught of the commander’s irritation when Onya trails after them not even a minute after. And Clarke can’t help but smile lovingly at the way Lexa’s stance immediately loosens at the sight of the girl who makes a beeline for her mother and firmly attaches herself to the woman’s thigh, clearly having missed her mom so much.

 

“See? I knew I wasn’t going crazy.” Raven looks at her friend with widened eyes and laughs exactly like a crazy person would. “Octavia, I _told_ you Clarke was here. Didn’t I tell you on the radio earlier? And you thought I was going insane.”

 

Octavia had already ridden back to the tower by the time the four left the building and is now also experiencing this bizarre wonder for the first time. She blinks her eyes way too many times when the other Clarke smiles in her direction. “Whoa,” she gasps. “Well you didn’t exactly specify which version of Clarke you were talking about.”

 

“I said on the radio, _another Clarke_.”

 

“Well how was I supposed to know what that meant?”

 

The two exchange back and forth banters like they always seem to end up doing, and Clarke, both Clarkes in fact, can’t help but chuckle at the pure geniality and the light-heartedness of the atmosphere. After the day that they had, god knows they all need that.

 

“You seem awfully quiet,” she hears from her left. She slightly jumps at that as she hadn’t even noticed Lexa creeping closer to her. The commander kisses her cheek, snaking an arm around her waist, and smiles that familiar smile of hers. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke nods and closes her eyes for a moment. “Just very tired. Are you holding an assembly tonight?” _Please say no,_ she begs internally.

 

“No, we will reconvene tomorrow. And another round of inquisition,” Lexa sighs but smirks knowingly at the blonde’s outward show of relief at her words. “We have much to do tomorrow. Tonight though, we’ll just rest. How does that sound?”

 

She smiles at that, resting her head on the commander’s shoulder, relieved that they won’t have to deal with the rest of their people tonight and delighted to finally be getting her girlfriend’s attention. “That sounds like the best plan ever.”

 

Lexa kisses her head lovingly, keeping her lips in place for several seconds before focusing her gaze on the other side of the room. “First, we best talk to you – well _that_ you. Perhaps get some insight that may serve as an advantage for us.”

 

Clarke tries very hard not to groan, and what comes out of her mouth is more of a strained grunt that has Lexa laughing lightly. She definitely agrees with her of course. Because when else would they get an opportunity to get some information from a very reliable source that has already gone through it all? Maybe they still have a fighting chance to make this all right.

 

“That’s a good idea.”

 

They watch in silent amusement as Raven fires question after question; the older Clarke patiently answering each and seeming to take everything in stride despite the nature of the questions.

 

“Am I going to get married? Who do I end up with? Please don’t tell me I live by myself and end up taking in eleven stray cats,” the mechanic asks rapidly.

 

Raven grumbles at someone knocking on the door before she could even get an answer. The grumbling immediately stops though as two very familiar men enter the room.

 

“Clarke,” he nods at his leader. His eyes trail the room before he is nodding again, “Clarke. Heda.”

 

Lexa instinctively pulls Clarke closer with the hand still on her waist with an unyielding strength. And Clarke wants to berate the commander for her sudden possessiveness but manages to stop herself as she remembers her very own ridiculous bitter thoughts from earlier about _herself_ , for god sakes.

 

“Hey O,” he continues. And then he smirks, pushing a tongue against his cheek as if hearing a joke only he can understand, “ _Raven_.”

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathes out. “Wow, you look…bigger,” the blonde comments. She doesn’t miss Lexa’s irritated exhale of breath that hits her neck.

 

“Yeah he does,” Raven says, unabashedly letting her eyes feast on the man’s bare brawny arms on display.

 

Octavia on the other hand practically has her jaw touching the floor at the sight of an older Lincoln with his arms crossed, a ghost of a smile on his lips, silently pleased at his love’s gawking. He bows to his Heda and turns to his leader, “Clarke, everyone’s ready to go when you are.”

 

“Everything’s as it should be?” she asks.

 

“Sha. The bodies have been gathered for burning. And evidence of our… abrupt arrival has been cleared,” Lincoln answers, sneaking another glance at a younger Octavia who has not blinked once.

 

“Good. But I have to talk to them first,” the woman gestures with her head. “The others can go so they can go home and rest. We’ll be right behind you.”

 

The two men nod respectfully in response, opening the door to comply at once, but not without scanning the expanse of the room again.

 

When the door closes, Raven raises an eyebrow. “Octavia, did your brother just wink at me?”

 

Octavia scrunches her nose, “Um, I don’t know.”

 

The mechanic clears her throat, lowering her head in an attempt to hide the sudden flush on her cheeks. “Right. Um, well… I should probably be there to see them off. Since… you know, I made the machine and all.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Octavia utters as she mindlessly follows, still very much dazed at the unusual encounter.

 

When their uninvited guests leave and the room is finally quiet, Lexa is the first one to break the stifling silence. “So what can you tell us?”

 

“You may want to write some of this down. We aren’t entirely sure yet but Raven believes once we leave and the portal is completely closed, your memories may be erased or perhaps muddled. Something about fluctuation of time and space,” the woman shrugs her shoulders. “We aren’t _supposed_ to make contact with anyone when we use the machine. So we don’t fully know the effects yet,” she looks down at her daughter out of the corner of her eye, whose gaze immediately scans the floor instead, “But I guess we’ll find out later though.”

 

Clarke holds up her sketchbook and a pencil, impatiently motioning for her older self to start already.

 

The woman looks down at her daughter again and brushes the girl’s hair absentmindedly. She sighs, “Where do I start?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Twelve Years into the Future_ **

****

_The attacks happen unexpectedly throughout the years._

_So unexpected that Clarke and Lexa anticipate for something to go wrong every day. They learn to live their lives and go on about their days while always looking over their shoulders waiting for the next incident to happen._

_They were few and far in between at first. Random small-scale disturbance in multiple clans in an attempt to revolt against the coalition. The commander has always been quick in putting an end to these though, riding out to meet the rebels at first earshot of rumors circulating about possible upheavals._

_Sometimes Lexa would resolve these peacefully, with those involved agreeing to some kind of negotiations. More often than not, when verbal negotiations aren’t enough, they would regrettably end in a gruesome battle, the commander having to use brute force which she knows will only temporarily end the cycle of attacks._

_They had done away with_ jus drein no jus daun _long ago. They realized over time that this can never be as long as there are threats coming from all directions. Even so, attempting to change a century old tradition proved to be very difficult to erase from people’s minds. The short time it was implemented was enough for some to be engraved in their memories as the biggest betrayal a commander has committed despite the innumerable relief Lexa has provided for the coalition._

_There was a sudden shift in the tactics used though when the small-scale attacks turned out to be inadequate in causing a full-blown uprising. Whereas in the beginning, there were only minor incidents that attempted but primarily failed to overthrow the commander, that in the later years turned to a much more calculated approach that aimed to show Lexa’s inability to lead by sporadically sabotaging the commander’s plans in creating a balanced society or what Clarke and Lexa think is a new low, making it appear that the commander is behind anything that ever goes wrong._

_The coalition is visibly in shambles with five clans officially seceding from it and unofficially forming their own over the last several years._

_The past decade or so has been absolutely depleting. And no one feels it more than Lexa, and by extension Clarke._

_Even so, they find the will to bask in happiness during the few and rare times they force themselves to forget about the outside world._

_This morning is one of those rare times._

_Lexa wakes up before the sun even rises despite the fact that she only had a couple of hours of sleep after arriving home very late the night before. She spent days visiting a village that had been attacked by a group impersonating the commander’s guards. Their shelters were set aflame, and their crops had been completely destroyed. It took a lot of convincing to assure the villagers that it wasn’t her that ordered the attack, and that the insignia the assailants wore slightly differs from the real one. The commander stayed until their living quarters were re-built and their farm recovered. Even going as far as having Skaikru technology installed that easily pumps water from underground._

_That wasn’t the first time a strike like that has occurred. And Lexa knows it won’t be the last either._

_She’s absolutely exhausted._

_Lexa’s just grateful she has someone beside her that understands. She sighs as she holds her houmon closer, kissing the top of her head, smiling at the satisfied hum it elicits._

_“You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” Clarke murmurs. “Too early.”_

_“I can’t sleep,” she replies quietly._

_“Want to talk?”_

_Lexa is quiet for a moment. And she contemplates not saying anything at all. She has shared a good amount of burden with her houmon over the years after all. But before she knows it, her words come spilling out, divulging everything that has been stewing in her mind for some time now._

_How she’s worried about her family’s safety every day._

_How all she ever wanted was to be the best commander there ever was to her people._

_How she doesn’t know if she’s even a good enough commander now._

_How she’s afraid that things will go back to the way it was before the coalition was formed._

_How it simply_ hurts _that the people she protects and has sworn her life to see her as an enemy._

_“I’m tired, Clarke,” she utters, rubbing a hand on her face repeatedly. “I’m so tired.”_

_“I know, babe.” The blonde props her head on her elbow, a look of distress written all over her features. They’ve become very good at being in tuned of each other’s emotions, always feeling the same the other does. “How about we cancel everything today and go on a day trip?”_

_Lexa looks at her plaintively, “I wish I could. I have clan leaders arriving today unfortunately.”_

_“They can wait until tomorrow. We haven’t gone to TonDC in a while. Onya has been bugging me about seeing Abe. I’m sure Lincoln and Octavia would be happy to see us too.”_

_“Yeah, but…”_

_As if on cue, the door opens and Onya slowly enters with her hands covering her eyes, “Can I come in?”_

_The women chuckle at their daughter’s antics. “You’re already in. Come here.” Clarke says. The girl enthusiastically jumps on the bed, wriggling herself to fit in the small space in between the two. “Tell your nomon we need a day off.”_

_“We need a day off, nomon,” Onya recites on cue._

_“And that we want to go to Ton DC to see our friends.”_

_“We want to see our friends!” the girl repeats, throwing her hands in the air animatedly._

_Lexa massages her forehead in thought, briefly thinking of how her visitors won’t react well to find out that the commander has left Polis for the day. But she looks at two pairs of perfect blue orbs staring back at her with a mixture of hopeful and insistence._

_And if there’s anything Lexa can’t resist, it’s those. She smiles in defeat, and Clarke and Onya squeal excitedly before she even responds. “Very well.”_

 

* * *

 

_“Look at this one! It changes colors under the sun,” Onya exclaims as she holds out a stone in front of her, tilting it so that it changes from blue to green under the light._

_“Whoa,” Abe gasps, eyes widening in delight._

_“You can have this one.”_

_“Are you sure?” he holds out his hand hesitantly._

_“Of course,” the girl grins, “We found a few more – they’re in my mom’s bag.”_

_Onya has been buzzing with energy all day. She is sure this is one of the best day she has had in a very long time. They stopped at a nearby secluded area prior to arriving in TonDC where her nomon showed her a tree house she built when she was her age. The commander even promised her that they’ll make one together sometime._

_They spent a good part of their day fishing, and swimming on the river, and searching for unique looking rocks they could find._

_It seems that the day has also put her parents in good spirits. She looks over where the adults surround the fire roasting the fish they had caught. Her nomon has her arms around her mom, probably telling one of her very many bad jokes as the blonde shakes her head with a pained look on her face but is laughing anyway._

_A radio crackles right next to her. “Are you going to answer that?” she asks Abe, who is still scrutinizing the colorful stone._

_The boy jumps from his stupor and presses the button on the radio. “Hello?”_

_Onya has to cover her ears at the loud noise coming from it, even Abe holds it out in front of him. When it finally stops, he cautiously presses the button, “Do you want to talk to my mom?”_

_“Is Clarke there?” the woman, who Onya guesses is Raven, shouts from the tiny thing._

_Abe runs to where Clarke is still standing by the fire with Lexa’s arms still around her._

_Onya watches as her mom holds up the radio in her ear to make out the words better, despite the deafening sound coming out of it._

_She watches as her mom disentangles herself to walk a few steps away from the others._

_She watches as her nomon follows only a few steps behind, a hand already reaching out for the blonde’s shoulder._

_She watches as her mom drops the radio onto the ground and looks back at the commander with a vacant look in her eyes._

_“She’s gone,”_ _Clarke murmurs as her head falls onto Lexa’s waiting shoulder. “She’s gone,” she repeats over and over again._

 

* * *

 

 

**Now**

“And we’ve been fighting back ever since,” the woman sighs somberly, reclining comfortably as she sits on the oversized couch, Onya still glued to her hip. She ruffles the girl’s hair and only smiles at the muttering in response. Though her mood has gone sour from retelling only a very small part of what she and Lexa have gone through, she still has every reason to be happy. How could she not be when she’s finally holding her daughter after so many weeks of searching for her? “So I guess that’s why Onya came here. To see if we can change anything.”

 

“Well, _can_ we?” Clarke asks as she looks at her older self, pausing from her incessant pacing that she has been doing for the past hour or so. She suspects she has left a trail of scratches on the hardwood floor. She can’t help it. She thought it would make her feel better talking through some of the things that will take place. But her exhaustion from earlier has just been enhanced with heightened anxiety. How Lexa can sit on the couch quietly and unmoving after hearing just a snippet of the horrific things they have to look forward to is beyond her.

 

“I don’t… I don’t really know,” she answers. “I’m not sure what else we could have done differently from this point on.”

 

“Well what about Titus?” Onya blurts out as she stands up, speaking for the first time since her mom started talking.

 

“What _about_ Titus?” the woman furrows her eyebrows.

 

The commander leans forward, clasping her hands together in thought. After the tiring day that she has had and the equally draining summary she just sat through, she has forgotten all about her traitorous flamekeeper. Lexa glances at the girl who looks like she is ready to burst at any moment, clenching and unclenching her small fists repeatedly. “Onya has reasons to believe that Titus is behind all of this. She was a witness to a heinous crime here in the tower that the fleimkepa had led. And Onya is sure he is their leader. After what has transpired the last several days, I believe her.”

 

“What?” the woman sits up suddenly. “You’re talking about the murder that happened around this time on the first floor of the tower?”

 

“Sha,” Lexa answers. “Onya was…” she looks away guiltily, “an unfortunate bystander that night.”

 

The girl nods repeatedly, “Mom, I saw him that night. And another night when he was talking with the prisoners and escaped. He _planned_ all of this.”

 

“Did Titus disappear too? After the attack, in your experience?” Clarke asks.

 

“Well yes. But we just thought…” the woman looks away. “We just thought that they captured him…”

 

“So you’re telling me, _we_ didn’t look for Titus at _all_?” Clarke crosses her arms across her chest.

 

“ _Of course,_ we did,” she spits back, narrowing her eyes. “But after years of finding nothing but false leads, we assumed he’d been killed by the rebels. And we had other things to worry about, as you may recall from what I just told you guys.” She rubs her face with her hands and mumbles incoherently to herself but stops almost immediately. The woman tilts her head to the side and grins with genuine pride. “Wait, you figured all of that out?” she asks the girl.

 

Onya beams but looks away to conceal her reddened cheeks. Just like her nomon, she has never been one to boast.

 

“Yes, she saved us,” Lexa looks at the girl fondly. “And if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have known about Titus.”

 

The woman pulls the girl in her arms and kisses her cheeks repeatedly that has the girl squirming away in contained laughter, “You’re so smart.”

 

When the laughter has died down, the younger Clarke is predictably the first one to pick up the conversation. “So what do we _do_? How do we stop all of these from happening?”

 

“I really don’t think there’s anything that we could have done differently from this point,” the woman repeats.

 

“So what? We’re just going to sit here and let them attack us? Continue to prey on us and threaten our lives?” Clarke practically shouts.

 

“ _Sit here?_ Do you really think that’s what we did? _Sit_ and not do _anything_?” the woman bellows in response. “Are you hearing yourself? Do you even know yourself at all?” She scoffs and turns to the commander who has gone very still at the heated exchange of words. “Sorry I was a little neurotic,” side-eyeing her younger self for a moment, “I promise I get a lot better.”

 

Lexa smirks and shakes her head. Who else can say that they have witnessed two versions of the same person argue with each other in the same room? What an unbelievable day she has had.

 

“Mom, why don’t we stay here and look for Titus? He can’t be that far away,” Onya says.

 

“We can’t stay here too long, kid,” her mother answers.

 

“But I can…” the girl starts to say.

 

“You’ve done enough,” the woman replies in a hard voice, startling Clarke and Lexa that both involuntarily straighten their backs. She kneels in front of the girl who has lowered her head, a familiar pout on her lips. “You’ve done enough,” she repeats more softly as she rubs Onya’s arms. “You already saved us remember?”

 

Onya nods and slowly smiles at that, delighted that she was able to help her parents in any kind of way.

 

The commander stands, “We’re going to keep looking for Titus. I believe he’s the key to bringing an end to all this.”

 

The woman nods, “And when we get home, and he still hasn’t been apprehended, I’ll keep looking, I promise. I have a plan.”

 

“What’s your plan?” Clarke asks.

 

“You’ll know when it’s time I suppose,” the older woman responds as she stands up, facing the commander. She pauses then and thoughtfully regards the brunette’s features, eyes flitting back and forth between the green orbs. Lexa can do nothing but quietly let her. After several minutes have passed, she shakes her head and looks away. “Sorry, I just… I haven’t seen your eyes in weeks.”

 

Clarke’s eyes soften when she hears that. And her heart sinks. Her heart hurts for _herself_. She practically pulled her hair out when Lexa was unconscious for barely two days. She can’t even imagine how it would feel if it lasted _weeks_.

 

“You will,” Lexa reassures tenderly.

 

“Yeah?” she replies, “Well, how do I get you to wake up?”

 

“Just tell me my favorite story,” Lexa replies almost immediately.

 

The woman raises an eyebrow but nods, “I’ll do that,” grinning slowly in recognition. “We really should get going. I don’t know if or what we’ve changed already.”

 

Clarke clears her throat, “Any parting advice then?”

 

“I’d say, take care of each other, but you don’t have to be told to do that,” she answers with a knowing smile. “Maybe use sunscreen more often,” she follows playfully that has younger Clarke groaning in response. “Oh and…” she swallows audibly, though her voice noticeably becomes delicately low and hoarse when she speaks, “You should visit mom more.”

 

Clarke purses her lips, heart sinking once again at the unsettling insinuation as she scribbles one last note.

 

The woman turns to Onya, “Ready to go home and see her?”

 

“Yes,” the girl grins.

 

She touches Onya’s chin lightly, “Alright then. Say your _see you laters_.”

 

The two immediately bend low to be close to eye level with the girl they won’t be seeing for a while.

 

Onya throws her arms around Clarke, tucking her head in the crook of her neck as she rubs her back in circles, a familiar comforting gesture Onya has come to know so well. She then turns to the commander, grasping the brunette’s face gently that Lexa reflexively closes her eyes for a moment, before Onya’s arms enfold her as well.

 

The girl takes a step back before embracing them both again at the same time for a very long time, eyes suddenly filled with tears just like the women before her.

 

Even though she’ll be with them again when she gets home, Onya is still going to miss the younger version of her parents and the memories she wouldn’t have had if she didn’t travel back in time.

 

Watching her nomon remarkably lead a coalition at such a young age with her mom’s unwavering support from the very beginning. Seeing them unyieldingly fight side by side even during what seemed like hopeless losing battles for most. Observing the blossoming first stages of their courtship and witnessing it develop into something so much more that it fills Onya’s heart with so much indescribable joy that she thinks it must be overflowing.

 

And though her trip didn’t exactly stop the assailants as she had planned, Onya thinks it’s still worth it.

 

Everything that has happened just validates what she has known all along.

 

She’s made out of nothing but love.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 They stand abreast, quietly staring at the closed door now.

 

Their tears from parting with the girl they can’t wait to meet again have long dried, and their ragged breathing from the unexpected emotion have finally returned to normal.

 

Clarke feels the ghost of Lexa’s fingertips reaching for her hand, and the blonde grasps it back with a tight grip, needing to physically feel relief, and comfort, and _love_ from the only person she knows that actually gives meaning to the word. 

 

She feels Lexa take a deep breath before the brunette moves to face her instead. And Clarke is sure she will never ever get tired of seeing Lexa like this.

 

She remembers the first time she witnessed this expression on Lexa’s face, and how it literally took her breath away when the back of the commander’s knees hit the mattress and she sat down looking up at Clarke in the most vulnerable way, laying herself bare, ready to give Clarke the world if she so much asked.

 

She recalls momentarily pondering the implication of the commander of the twelve clans offering everything she was, and how Clarke could have easily taken what Lexa was giving so willingly and ruin her as she would have wished only weeks before they finally acted upon their feelings for each other.

 

But Clarke didn’t want to do such a thing. She could barely even say goodbye that day, let alone deliberately hurt her. Instead, the blonde kissed her and sure, took Lexa’s heart and locked it in her chest for safekeeping. But she also freely gave hers in return. And it’s a wonder that another person’s beating organ, casted from completely different frames, molded so perfectly within their chests, pumping life throughout their bodies as if they belonged there all along.

 

“You’ll be as _beautiful_ as you’ve always been,” Lexa breathes out, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “And stronger than ever despite everything that may come,” she swallows audibly, as her voice waivers ever so slightly, “And you’ll still be _mine_.”

 

She can only tighten her grip, still holding Lexa’s hand as she moves even closer and places her forehead against the other woman’s. “Always,” she whispers.

 

Lexa slowly brings up a hand, caressing the blonde’s cheek. “And we’ll have a daughter. A _family_.”

 

Clarke nods, closing her eyes and touching her lips against Lexa’s as a lone tear finally falls.

 

“And I want you to know that…” the commander pauses, “I want you to know that _whatever_ happens. I won’t regret a thing. If it means having all of this.”

 

“I won’t either,” Clarke promises as she kisses her again, “I won’t either.”

 

They grab at each other’s waists, pressing their bodies together as close as they can, effectively imprinting themselves onto each other.

 

After several moments, Lexa pulls away and tucks a hair behind Clarke’s ear. “Did I tell you how beautiful you always will be?” she smirks. “I mean… wow.”

 

The blonde raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, yeah,” she chuckles. She eyes their bed for must have been the hundredth time that night and she’s never been more eager to finally rest. She thinks she’ll immediately fall asleep before her head even hits the pillows.

 

“Ready for bed?” Lexa yawns, already taking off her boots.

 

Clarke watches the commander as she strips off layers upon layers of her clothing. And when she doesn’t do the same, Lexa looks over her shoulder questioningly.

 

“I… I have to do something real quick,” she says as she takes big strides toward the door, “I’ll be right back.”

 

Lexa doesn’t get a chance to reply as Clarke shuts the door behind her and runs toward the end of the hall where the stairs, her worst nemesis, is located. She grudgingly climbs down the many steps, already thinking about how much she’ll hate herself when she has to go back up.

 

She is sure she’ll hate herself even more if she doesn’t make it in time though.

 

Clarke doesn’t stop once. Even when her lungs are burning and her legs are absolutely begging her to. And when she rounds the corner and she sees Onya on her older self’s back, she breathes a sigh of relief, thinking it was worth it after all.

 

The woman turns to face her immediately, an expectant look on her face, not the least bit surprised to see the younger Clarke. She bends down to let Onya slide down her back onto the floor. “Yes?”

 

Clarke struggles to catch her breath. And she makes a mental note that she’s going to have to work on her cardio as soon as she gets a good night’s sleep. “What’s your plan?” she manages to breathe out.

 

“What?”

 

“If or when you find Titus, what’s your plan?” Clarke repeats.

 

“You’ll know.”

 

“You keep saying that!” she practically shouts.

 

The woman rolls her eyes, probably wondering why she thought even for a second that that would be a good enough response for herself. “Onya, go over there and cover your ears.” They watch the girl walk away without question, hands already on her ears, uttering meaningless words. They can’t help but smile at that.

 

“Well?” Clarke asks.

 

“Alright. You want to know my plan?”

 

She nods.

 

The woman steps closer, and Clarke feels like she’s staring at her own reflection in a mirror. She tightens her jaw, hands clenching in tight fists, “I’m going to kill the fucker.”

 

Clarke nods again, slowly this time, pressing her lips together.

 

She knew the answer all along.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She quietly enters the room and chuckles as Lexa’s eyes fly open as soon as the door clicks shut.

 

“Where’d you go?” the commander asks softly, rearranging the pillow under her head.

 

“I just had to ask something,” Clarke answers as she undresses. She carefully lays on the bed and closes her eyes, her tired and battered body pleading for her to sleep. Her brain on the other hand, has other plans. “Will you still love me when I’m old?”

 

“Yes,” Lexa mumbles, turning her body to face the blonde.

 

“And wrinkly?”

 

The brunette places her arm across Clarke’s stomach with a sigh, “Yes.”

 

“And when my hair’s gray?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What about if all of my hair falls out and I become bald?”

 

“Why would…” Lexa slurs but decides to let it go. She pushes at Clarke’s shoulder lightly so that her front is pressing onto the blonde’s back. “Yes.”

 

“What about when I become annoying?”

 

Lexa sighs impatiently, brushing blonde hair away to nip at Clarke’s neck playfully. “You’ve been annoying me since the first moment we met. And I fell in love with you anyway.”

 

They lay in silence for minutes, and Lexa thinks Clarke has thankfully finally fallen asleep.

 

“Lexa,” Clarke mumbles, ignoring the other woman’s grumble behind her. “That is seriously the cutest thing you have ever said to me.”

 

“Are you going to sleep yet?” the brunette groans, pressing her body even closer.

 

Clarke only waits a moment before she takes Lexa’s hand on her waist and places it on her chest instead. “Now I am.”

 

She feels Lexa smirk against the back of her neck, and she mirrors the gesture on impulse, embracing the warmth in her chest that she feels every time she provokes such a reaction.

 

She simply _lives_ for that. And she’ll stop at absolutely nothing to see it every day.

 

And when the image of a girl with wild brown hair and blue eyes slowly fades away into a distant dream, Clarke sighs happily, finally ready to turn off her brain for however many hours they can remain uninterrupted.

 

Because anything can happen tomorrow. Fire can fall from the sky. The ground can be flooded with rain. Darkness can swallow the earth whole.

 

But only one fact, and one fact will forever remain.

 

Clarke loves Lexa, and Lexa loves Clarke.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Everything going forward will be the "future" when Clarke and Onya come back.
> 
> Sorry this took so long. I kept re-writing and deleting and then re-writing again just to make sure I wrap this timeline up adequately. Thank you for your patience, and as always, thank you for reading. :)


	21. Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is long overdue! I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, wanting to make sure it's where I want the story to go. The next one is almost finished and I won't take as long as last time before I post it :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!

 

 

**_Eleven Years Ago_ **

_Clarke doesn’t remember the last time she and Lexa have been apart for this long. When she really thinks about it, she supposes the last time was exactly two years ago before she even arrived in Polis and stayed there for good._

_Other than short trips she has to take every now and then back to Arkadia and Lexa’s visits to neighboring clans that only last several days at a time, the two haven’t been separated for more than a week in years._

_She lies awake and stares at the tattered ceiling of the tent, tossing and turning to her right in an attempt to fall asleep again. She sighs irritably as she faces a drooling, snoring Monty. She then turns to her left and sees Raven with her limp hand outstretched toward Bellamy’s. And there’s that pang in her chest that’s been noticeably intensifying over the last few days._

_Feeling restless and agitated, it’s no wonder Clarke rises before anyone else that morning, hopping over snoring bodies and quietly tiptoeing out of the makeshift tent. She inhales deeply, breathing in the crisp autumn air as she finally makes it out of the stifling canvas she’s been sleeping in for the past month or so._

_She instantly feels a tiny bit better the moment the cool air hits her lungs. The peaceful feeling only lasts for a moment though until she feels on edge again._

_Maybe it’s because she’s not really used to being around so many Arkers anymore, or the fact that she’s been sleeping uncomfortably on the lumpy ground with so many others for weeks. Maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t been alone with her thoughts for more than a minute, what with practically everyone hovering over her every second of the day. Maybe it’s because she didn’t even want to be there in the first place. Maybe, or without a doubt actually, she really really,_ really _just misses Lexa._

_Sure it had been nice to be around her friends that she doesn’t see a whole lot anymore. It felt great to reminisce about their time on the Ark and even laugh about the very few times in Clarke’s opinion, that there was something to laugh about during their early days on the ground. She and Bellamy even had a good long talk about their past transgressions they both still feel guilty about. She has finally come to terms that those feelings won’t ever go away. But it felt… good. It felt good to forgive another person even if there’s still a small part of her that hasn’t completely forgiven herself._

_It had also been surprisingly nice to be around her mother more. Clarke dreaded that part the most since her and her mother’s relationship only really started getting better when they lived apart. But for some reason, it’s been enjoyable. Like how it was when she was little. Abby even asks about all kinds of questions about Lexa – what she’s like, what’s her favorite food, does she have any family, does she_ want _a family. Clarke feared that Abby would one day ask the embarrassing question about their sex life, but that thankfully hasn’t happened yet._

_But even the times she’s laughing with her friends, Clarke wishes Lexa was there right next to her, to see if Lexa would find the joke funny too. Even when she’s entranced by the endless beauty the ground has to offer such as the glowing field of fireflies she slowly treaded through one day, Clarke immediately mused how Lexa’s face would look like surrounded by the magnificent blaze. And the few times she can get away from everyone, feeling content in being alone, she wishes Lexa was there, being alone with her._

_The blonde only has to walk for a couple of minutes, navigating blindly in the near darkness, passing by exactly five oversized trees spaced apart before finding herself in a clearing where Mount Weather once proudly stood. Except the once looming edifice that to this day still plagues her dreams and consciousness, reduced to a pile of mere debris and ashes weeks ago, and now in the course of being built to a modest construction instead._

_Clarke would be lying if she said she wasn’t the least bit uneasy before she even arrived to this place several weeks ago. This is where she essentially parted with a good chunk of her humanity after all. Where she was forced to close her eyes tightly and discount hundreds of lives over her own._

_But the reconstruction of Mount Weather was deemed necessary. For the good of their people. For the good of the coalition. And if there’s anything the pragmatic in Clarke can’t ignore, it’s doing what’s best for the greater good and ignoring her own egotistical feelings. Who is she to place her interests before everyone else’s?_

_A facility dedicated for research for Arker and grounder scholars to compare and combine their scientific and innate knowledge that_ also _serves as a place to educate and train future scientists? Clarke’s ears perked up high when the idea was first brought to the commander and the council. She practically bobbed in place when Abby and her team, along with a number of Trikru proposed the united plan. What an exciting way to fully integrate their people and share a long-term cooperative effort!_

_Just as quickly though, Clarke felt her heart sink when the commander asked about the specifics of the project. She remembers her mother’s enthusiastic, confident voice turn to nervous sputters all of a sudden before Abby blurted out, “Mount Weather.”_

_Clarke recalls Lexa eyeing her surreptitiously in the crowded throne room, though an obvious uneasiness and concern were written all over her features. The commander was progressively getting worse at hiding her feelings. But even as she felt all eyes on her in the quiet room, Clarke surprised everyone and even herself in supporting the project at once, further commenting on the incredible idea and adding recommendations for improvement. Only when she and Lexa were behind closed doors that her anxiety coupled with flashbacks of people she killed came back. Even more so when she realized she would have to be the one leading the mountain’s reconstruction as part of her ambassador duty._

_She places her hands on her hips as she eyes their progress so far. Within a few weeks, their team had drawn and finalized plans of the building, moved the many boulders and rubble that filled the area, prepped the land, and have now finally started to build the foundations of the project._

_The first floor is nearly done, though they still have so much to go. If she had known it would have taken this long to finish it, maybe she wouldn’t have declared that she’ll see to it until it’s finished so easily in front of so many goddamn people._

_Figuring she doesn’t have anything better to do, and knowing there’s no way she can go back to sleep now, Clarke preps the cement and just hopes for the best that she’s mixing things correctly given the minimal lighting that she’s working with. It’s not long until she runs out and has to make some more. She wipes her forehead with her sleeve, huffing in frustration at a very small part of the wall she just contributed._

_“Channeling your inner frustration so early?” she hears someone very amused say behind her._

_Clarke rolls her eyes, “None of that right now, Raven.”_

_She picks up more blocks and adds them onto her pile, stomping her feet as much as she can in annoyance. Partly because Raven is probably right. But it’s obviously not very humorous to her at that moment._

_“Sorry. Just… trying to make a joke,” Raven shuffles on her feet awkwardly._

_“Well, maybe I’m just not in a jokey mood,” Clarke retorts, not missing the slight wince that crosses her friend’s face. She takes a deep breath, “Now_ I’m _sorry. It’s just… not been good lately.”_

_“Haven’t heard from her?”_

_The blonde squats in the middle of the roofless structure. She rests her elbows on her bent legs and sighs, “Her radio’s been out of range for days. The last time I heard from a messenger was last week.”_

_When she agreed to oversee the construction of the research facility, Lexa assured her that they’d see each other once a week, with Clarke coming back to Polis or Lexa visiting the site, and that they’d talk on the radio every day. So far, they have only talked on the radio less than ten times, and haven’t seen each other at all._

_For the day that Clarke left, the commander received word of possible sightings of the former flamekeeper that they have been searching for for almost two years. Lexa had no choice but to follow the leads in hopes to bring him back. The commander has been on the road ever since, only able to reach Clarke when the radio is within range when they’re lucky. Leave it to Titus to always ruin everything._

_“I’m sure she’s fine, Clarke,” Raven assures gently. “Watch – she’s probably dragging bald head back to Polis as we speak.”_

_The blonde snorts in amusement. That would be a sight. “I just wish I at least knew where she was.” She hugs her knees and closes her eyes tightly, knowing she won’t stop worrying until she sees Lexa, alive and whole._

_“Well, Indra would know where she is, right? The flamekeeper is supposed to know these things.”_

_“Yeah, but she won’t say anything when I call her. She doesn’t trust that the radio is secure and thinks it might put the commander in danger. Which I understand I guess.”_

_Raven eyes the sky, gradually brightening from the rising sun. She looks around and smirks suggestively, “No one is up yet.”_

_Clarke raises an eyebrow questioningly, “So?”_

_“So, who would stop you if you went to Polis? I mean, I surely can’t – you look like you’ve been working out a lot.”_

_She stands up at once, brushing the dirt off her pants and looks at her friend. “You think I should?”_

_“From the look on your face, I think you’ve already decided,” Raven rolls her eyes. “I’ll take the heat from your mom or whoever else that looks for you.”_

_“I can be back by nighttime,” Clarke replies quickly. “I’m just going to talk to Indra and then ride back again.”_

_“We’ll be fine for one day, Clarke,” Raven smiles. “Oh, and make sure you take your guards with you. They creep me out.”_

_They hear a rustle from the forest that makes the brunette jump in place. And as if on cue, two burly warriors emerge from the trees, already leading a horse toward the blonde._

_“I told you they’re creepy,” Raven mutters under her breath._

_Clarke mounts the horse at once, looking down at her friend gratefully, “I’ll be back,” she repeats._

_“I know, I know,” Raven replies. “Oh, and Clarke?”_

_“Yes?”_

_The brunette looks down at her muddied boots, “What do you think of… me and…,” she trails. “I don’t know. Never mind. It’s stupid. You have more important things to worry about.”_

_“I think you and Bellamy as a couple would make everyone barf. Which is what you like to say about me and Lexa. So I guess… good?” she smiles playfully._

_Raven glares but grins back, “Get the fuck out of here.”_

* * *

 

_Lexa rides fast, slowing down every once in a while to let her guards catch up. It wouldn’t do good for the commander to ride in the open without protection._ Although what’s the point of having guards when they can’t keep up? _she thinks in frustration._

_They are finally on their way back to Polis after weeks of searching for the former flamekeeper. The search had looked promising in the beginning, with plenty of credible witnesses that claim to have seen Titus with others. For weeks they followed these leads, even going to distant lands the commander rarely stepped foot on. Lexa and her generals were at first very hopeful in finally closing in on them. Until hours of riding and searching turned into days. Until days turned into weeks. Witnesses started to dwindle. And the once encouraging clear leads turned murky and all over the place._

_It was as if she imagined even having a real plan and has been following a false trail right from the very beginning. It drove the commander mad. And even more that whoever has her former flamekeeper is better at evading her than she thought them capable to be. Could it be that Lexa was losing her touch?_

_She growls in annoyance as she notices her guards falling behind again. This time though, she refuses to slow down, keeping her pace in rhythm with her mind currently running wild._

_Even though their trip yielded no results, Lexa thinks it wasn’t completely wasted. When an informant prompted her group to call on King Roan and his clan, the commander did so and left the Ice Nation buzzing with suspicion she can’t quite put a finger on._

_For in telling the purpose of their visit, the king nonchalantly denied his knowledge and involvement in such things but imperceptibly became rigid that no one but Lexa with her keen senses was able to detect the change in his demeanor. The commander’s warriors did a full sweep of the castle, and even all of the villages in the clan as Lexa watched a very silent King Roan, so very out of character from his usual talkative nature. And still, no Titus and nothing amiss was found. The sigh of relief that the king faintly let out will not be easily forgotten by Lexa though. Either he’s leading an uprising somewhere outside of his territory, or he really has no involvement but is being threatened. Or maybe she imagined that occurrence too?_

_She sighs heavily._

_Is she going insane?_

_Lexa keeps a hand on the reigns while the other reaches for the radio in her saddle. She presses the button, trying again for probably the fifth time that afternoon. “Hello?”_

_It’s unlike Clarke to leave her radio unattended, especially since Lexa has traveled so far away that she was not within range to reach her for a week now. Lexa has been desperate to hear from her that she nearly drove everyone mad pushing the red button repeatedly and only getting a static error sound until it finally went through._

_Clarke was nowhere to be found though it seems. Running errands for the day, Abby said. Lexa can’t help feeling selfishly disappointed. Clarke has her own duties after all._

_“Lexa?” she hears, cringing at herself for her lack of patience._

_She clears her throat, “I apologize for calling again, Abby. I’m assuming Clarke isn’t back yet?”_

_“No,” Abby replies with an obvious smirk on her face that Lexa can’t see but hear. “But I’ll have her call you right away when she does.”_

_“Thank you,” she replies, biting back a smile of her own. She supposes she should be thankful that Abby has been the one picking up her calls. Not that their relationship is still a secret to Clarke’s closest friends, but she still doesn’t quite know them as well as she now knows Abby. Who would have thought that would ever happen?_

_She smiles to herself again as she lets that sink in._

* * *

 

 

_She really should be resting._

_Lexa hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, resting at irregular intervals in uncomfortable places. During the time that she was away and was able to manage to shut her eyes, her brain would lie very much awake._

_Clarke has always been good at silencing that._

_And with Clarke away from Polis, currently unreachable at Mount Weather, and_ _light filtering in from the late afternoon sun through the drapes, Lexa just can’t possibly sit still._

_So even if she is newly bathed and she spent quite some time in the tub scrubbing away dirt that threatened to stain her skin permanently, Lexa dresses herself appropriately and swiftly makes her way to the training grounds._

_It isn’t long until the Heda is once again covered in dirt, chest burning in exhaustion, a welcomed distraction from her excessive intrusive thoughts from earlier. There’s no better way to forget about her problems than taking out her frustration on very willing trainees and warriors that are delighted to be fighting with the commander, regardless of the very high possibility of going home battered and bruised after._

_“Wanheda!” she thinks she hears several people say._

_Lexa immediately starts to look but as she does, her head snaps back as the young warrior she’s currently facing drives a fist onto the side of her face. She turns to him again with a ghost of an impressed smirk._ That was bold _, she thinks, quickly capturing his arm that attempted to get another hit at his Heda and twisting it to render it useless, effortlessly slamming him onto the ground in the same beat._

_She doesn’t stop to see if he’s okay. She knows he is by the way that he’s smiling dreamily up the now pink sky. The spectators surrounding them cheer at the unexpected entertainment for the afternoon. Watching their commander fight is a favorite in Polis._

_Lexa turns around and she lets out half a laugh that is only heard by the bystanders near her. They crane their necks to see what could have caused that rare sound._

Wanheda _, they start whispering again when Clarke dismounts her horse at the edge of the field. And it seems like the blonde can’t help but mirror the commander’s reaction._

_There’s been rumors of course._

_Over the two years that the Skaikru ambassador has been staying in Polis, it’s been speculated by all if there might be something more between their Heda and Wanheda._

_It’s not that the commander only spends time with her. She is also seen with the other ambassadors all over the city. No one that works in the tower has ever confirmed such a thing either. It’s not their place to say, they like to maintain._

_But still, the people of Polis can’t help but wonder. And by the way the two are eyeing each other at that moment in a very public place is another giveaway._

_They walk towards each other, slowly at first, looking down at the ground every once in a while in an attempt to hide the smiles on their faces. But they pick up the pace when it seems like the distance between them is never going to lessen._

_Until Clarke is practically jogging towards the commander._

_And when they are only a few feet apart, Lexa stops. She expects the blonde to do the same. They’re in front of the whole city after all._

_Instead, Clarke keeps her pace and does something that makes the afternoon even more memorable for everyone in the vicinity._

_She jumps onto the commander’s arms, wrapping her legs around her waist and…_ kisses _her._

_And the Heda_ kisses her back.

 

_They don’t notice the collective gasp that comes out of the spectators’ mouths. But after a few seconds of lips interlocked in a lingering kiss, they finally hear the deafening cheers._

_“You’re so dramatic,” Lexa rolls her eyes playfully as she pulls her head away the tiniest of bit._

_Clarke bites her lower lip in thought and grins, “Yeah, but you missed me.”_

_“I did,” the brunette nods slowly, keeping a tight grasp on her legs. She kisses her again, just because she can, and because she wants the whole world to see now. She leans her forehead against the blonde’s, smiling once again, “Welcome back, Clarke.”_

 

* * *

 

**Now**

_“Welcome back, Clarke.”_

She hears Lexa’s voice echoing in her pounding head. The cold metal that she’s currently slumped on isn’t helping her already freezing body. She guesses she must still be inside the time machine.

 

_Why is it so fucking cold_ , she wants to groan, though she can barely open her dry mouth and can only manage to exhale a pathetic whimper.

 

“Welcome back, Clarke,” she thinks she hears again. _Is that Lexa?_ She dares hope.

 

She keeps her eyes closed tightly, hoping to shield them from the bright white lights currently assaulting her eyeballs and practically blinding her.

 

There are familiar muffled voices around her talking all at once. Two, maybe three people? Every noise that enters her ears and reaches her brain feels like a screwdriver twisting in between the matter. She wishes her mouth could do more than shiver pitifully so she could tell them to stop fussing over her, or at least ask them to kindly shut the fuck up for just one second.

 

After multiple attempts of trying to communicate her wish to sit in silence for a moment, Clarke manages to raise a palm up, hoping they’d understand her plea.

 

They stop talking all at once, even stopped moving and breathing perhaps all of a sudden. _Thank god_ , she thinks as she lets her limp hand drop on her thigh. It is as if her body is betraying her and refusing to oblige for being stubborn and not taking care of it as well as she should.

 

It must have been half an hour of sitting in glorious silence that her body finally decides to cooperate. She slowly stretches her legs out, straightening her back and wincing at the multiple cracking sounds her body makes. And then finally, she opens her eyes.

 

The first thing she sees is Onya, crouched in front her with a look of stricken worry. _She looks so much like Lexa_ , she immediately thinks. And it worries her that the thought makes her happy and saddens her at the same time. Clarke furrows her eyebrows, not knowing what to make of that. She takes the girl’s hand and embraces her with one arm tightly, kissing Onya’s head noisily.

 

“Welcome back, Clarke,” she hears again.

 

She closes her eyes for a moment and wishes that the memory of Lexa saying that years and years ago didn’t come back to her in a dream just now.

 

She’s glad to see Raven of course, but there’s nothing more disappointing than traveling and fighting battles all over the lands, in this timeline and another, and her wife isn’t the one to welcome her with those words.

 

“Onya said you passed out right when the portal in the other timeline closed. That’s never happened before. Are you okay?” Octavia bends in front her with her hands on her knees.

 

Clarke leans her head back against the metal wall and sighs. She slowly stands up, keeping a hand on the wall for support with her arm still around her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m fine. Just probably exhausted. Onya, go tell the guards to prepare a jeep for us. We’re driving back to Polis. We shouldn’t be riding in this condition.”

 

The girl nods agreeably, walking very fast out of the room. The blonde turns to her friends again, “Any…changes while we were gone?”

 

They know exactly what she’s asking. She can only hope that the wishful apprehension in her voice is only in her imagination.

 

Octavia shakes her head slowly, staring up at Clarke now like she just asked if the sky is green.

 

They are quiet for a moment, and the blonde blanches under their worried scrutinization. Still she keeps her head high and her eyes straight ahead.

 

Raven clears her throat, “Clarke,” she starts softly, raising her palm up slightly as if approaching a hurt animal. “You know how this works… we can’t change anything with this,” she gestures to the apparatus Clarke is currently still standing in. “We can only gather information and use that for right now. There’s no way to alter what has already happened. “

 

The blonde swallows audibly. She really just wants to cry. “I know,” she rasps, shaking her head at herself.

 

Of course she knows.

 

When the time machine was first created, it sat in a secluded wing in Mount Weather unused for years as a team of researchers methodically studied and tested it so that they know exactly what to expect. The commander was adamant in making sure it wouldn’t cause any adverse effects, and the very few people that knew about it undeniably agreed. There’s no point in being able to go back in time if it will somehow make things worse in the present.

 

After years of thorough studies and trials, the group of researchers finally confidently concluded that one cannot go back in time and change anything from the past. That a traveler can only act in a way that is already consistent with what had already happened and that anything that occurs while they are visiting another time is somehow meant to happen all along.  

 

She knew all of this.

 

But perhaps seeing her younger self and Lexa recently and being able to warn them of what is to come made her hopeful that that wasn’t the case. That maybe they _can_ alter what has already happened. That maybe her mom would still be alive and Lexa wouldn’t be in a coma and that everything didn’t turn to complete utter shit.

 

And it didn’t help seeing pure _hope_ in her poor daughter’s eyes so desperate to change everything that she traveled back in time in a lone dangerous mission. Clarke swallows a big lump in her throat. She doesn’t know how she’ll tell Onya that her illegal expedition actually didn’t yield anything different. Like Raven said, they can only use it to find out information. Thanks to Onya though, at least now they know that Titus, wherever he may be or if he’s even still alive, is responsible for it all. So maybe there’s something good that came out of it after all.

 

“Mom, it’s here,” Onya yells from the hall, startling Clarke from her thoughts.

 

“Coming,” she replies, meeting her friends’ eyes that are still watching her uneasily. “I’m fine,” she answers their unspoken question, though they all know she’s anything but.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke stands on the balcony with her hands clutched tightly on the marble railing, overlooking the perfect sunset in the city she’s been calling home for over a decade.

 

She has barely spoken since arriving to Polis, opting to answer with nonverbal gestures when asked questions. Not long after, Indra and the others on the council finally left her alone, save for her own miserable thoughts.

 

If she could change the past, would she?

 

If it meant saving the one person that means the world to her, Clarke wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. If she could go back to that one afternoon years ago when she left Polis for the first time, she thinks she could have restrained herself from kissing Lexa, wish her good luck, and admire her from afar.

 

Because that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?

 

No one would have started to question Lexa’s ability to be the commander if it wasn’t for Clarke. They wouldn’t have challenged Lexa the way they have been relentlessly doing so over the past years if Clarke wasn’t around. The coalition will most likely be more intact than it is now, and most importantly, Lexa wouldn’t be lying in... what Clarke can’t bring herself to say even in her own head, possibly her deathbed.

 

But then that would mean missing out on the best years Clarke has ever had. The simple moments in between the fiery ones that she and Lexa have shared. Endless nights of falling asleep next to the person who makes waking up every day worth it. And that would mean not having Onya, the most beautiful thing to have come out of all this.

 

Clarke breathes out, shaking her head at such futile thoughts. There’s much to do since she’s been away, and yet here she is, wallowing in despair about things she has no control over.

 

She turns her head toward the glass door and very nearly smiles at the sight of Onya laying on her side with her head propped up on her elbow next to her nomon. The girl hasn’t left the commander’s side since they arrived, only disappearing for a little bit when Raven practically had to drag her to bathe. It wasn’t long until Onya plopped back on the bed with wet hair dripping all over the pillows, picking up where she left off and talking out loud about her most recent wild adventures. Every now and then, she’d hear Raven interrupt Onya’s story with her own teasing remarks and they’d have their usual back and forth banter.

 

Clarke would have asked them to be more quiet, but considering the commander has been in a coma for weeks, Clarke is ready to try anything to get Lexa to wake up. Maybe she’ll even ask Onya to jump up and down the mattress and have Raven sing horribly.  

 

“That’s a wild one,” she hears. She had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she had forgotten that Octavia is sitting out on the balcony right beside her.  

 

“Huh?”

 

“Onya,” Octavia gestures with her head. “Abe wouldn’t even go to the woods by himself these days, let alone travel through time and do all that. I mean, wow. Wild.” she breathes out.

 

Clarke does smile at that, “That’s one word to describe her.” If she was in the mood to talk more, she’d also add words like defiant, impulsive, and reckless. But most of all, brave.

 

She wonders what Lexa would think about Onya doing such things. She almost laughs out loud imagining her wife trying her hardest to keep a straight face as she reprimands the girl. She imagines Lexa immediately bursting with pride when it’s just the two of them as her wife tends to do whenever Onya does something the exact opposite of what she’s asked but that Lexa perceives to be daring and heroic.

 

Octavia continues staring off into the distance, absentmindedly tilting her upper lip into a ghost of a smile, “Yet somehow, I can see Lexa being very amused about all of this. Remember that year when Onya entered that fighting competition during the annual festival without either of you knowing? All of a sudden, this little girl comes out and attempts to fight fully grown trainees,” she laughs. “And you and Lexa just sat there because…”

 

“Because the commander can’t interfere with non-political entertainment,” Clarke recites as she shakes her head.  “I was so pissed. And Lexa…”

 

Octavia laughs again, “Lexa was being typical Lexa.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Two Years Ago_ **

 

 

_“What in the actual_ fuck _is your daughter doing in the ring right now?” the blonde leans forward, gripping the armchair with both hands as she quite literally sits on the edge of her seat._

_The commander keeps her standard impassive expression, only crossing her legs imperturbably as she leans back on her chair. “Why is it that she’s only_ my _daughter when she does something like this? And before you say what I think you’re going to say, no – I had no part in this,” she whispers. “I was not aware she entered the tournament.”_

_“She literally was just sitting here a minute ago,” Clarke gestures to the empty seat next to her, shaking her head incredulously. Why is she still even surprised? She shouldn’t put it past her antsy kid to do something she’s definitely not supposed to. And how is Lexa sitting so calmly? “Don’t you even think of saying it…”_

_“Relax, Ai hodnes,” Lexa says, reaching over to place a hand on top of her houmon’s. She keeps her hand in place hoping to comfort, though she knows Clarke is anything but comforted by the way the blonde is about ready to break her hand as she squeezes it back._

_The blonde breathes in deeply, “Don’t tell me to relax. Your daughter is about to fight trainees twice her size that have also been training for twice as long. She’s_ five _for god sakes. You can’t stop this? Isn’t there some kind of age rule?”_

_“She’s almost six. And no, I cannot, Clarke. This is a festival, not a battle. There are no rules. Anyone is able to enter. It just so happens that everyone signs up to fight others their age,” the commander leans forward in thought, “This is the first time this has happened.”_

_Clarke widens her eyes as she thinks she sees a pleased smile cross Lexa’s face. She has considered herself a grounder for years. But there are just certain_ grounder things _like this that she’ll never truly understand. “_ Lexa, _what if she gets hurt?”_

_“She definitely will get hurt,” the brunette answers almost immediately. The trainees know not to seriously injure the commander’s daughter. But they also know well enough not to take it easy on the girl and make it appear as if Onya can’t handle herself. “And it will be a learning lesson.”_

_The bell rings and Clarke blocks out the cheers and shouts and even the cracks of weapons. She badly wants to look away, but she finds that she can’t. For Onya is holding her own weight, attacks perfectly timed, and moves so graceful that her opponent staggers back in disbelief. They both breathe out the air they have been holding in as Onya stands over a boy, almost a man, on his back with a staff against his chest._

* * *

 

_“Repeat what I just said,” the commander says. She keeps her back straight with her hands behind her back._

_Onya has her head down, her wild curls covering her muddied face, “I will never ever enter a fighting contest again without asking for permission first,” she complies._

_“And?”_

_“And… to always guard my right side?” she questions._

_The commander shakes her head and Clarke sighs in exasperation. It was probably a good idea to let Lexa do all the talking, considering the only thing separating them and everyone else celebrating in the grand hall is a flimsy curtain. She would have definitely not been as calm as her wife is. Clarke peeks out of the partition and surveys the room, noticing her friends already getting very drunk and her mom and Kane talking by themselves in the corner of the room._

_“And… to pick a sword as my weapon next time?” Onya tries again._

_Lexa sighs and shakes her head as she crouches in front of the girl, “And to never put yourself in unnecessary danger like that. Your mom and I were very worried.”_

_Onya looks at them both, eyes widening in understanding, “I’m sorry.”_

_“Just don’t repeat it, okay?” Clarke chimes in, tucking in a curl behind Onya’s ear._

_“Okay,” she promises._

_“Now go and celebrate, we’ll be out in a second,” the blonde attempts to wipe the mud on the girl’s face._

_Before Onya could turn around and go though, Lexa holds her hand, “Oh and Onya?” she kisses the girl’s forehead, “You did well, little one.”_

_Onya beams with pride as Clarke nods in agreement, “You did.”_

_When the girl is out of sight, Lexa stands up and places her hands on Clarke’s lower back, kissing her soundly, “She beat_ three _trainees,” she exclaims._

_Clarke chuckles, “I know babe, I was there remember?”_

_“With a weapon almost twice as tall as her,” she says excitedly._

_“Yes, that’s our daughter,” the blonde smiles._

_“Oh_ now _she’s_ our _daughter again,” Lexa teases, leaning in for another kiss._

_“You know this curtain is practically sheer right? People can see us,” Clarke giggles in between kisses._

_The commander smirks, “Let them see then.”_

_Everyone is in good spirits as the night went on, drinking, and eating, and dancing. Clarke tries to keep up with Raven’s drunken slurring in her ear. She thinks her friend is telling her sex stories she definitely is not interested in hearing about and she’s glad that she can barely understand a word. Clarke looks around the room and sees Lexa engaged in a conversation with Indra and some of her generals. The commander has a big smile on her face and she just knows Lexa is again, proudly re-telling Onya’s success that day, even though everyone was there to see it._

_She scans the hall some more and smiles at the sight of her mom and Kane and Onya holding each other’s hands while dancing in a circle._

_Their collective laughter can be heard even with a sea of people in between them and her._

_Clarke thinks this is the happiest she has seen her mom in years._

* * *

 

**Now**

Clarke gasps, “Whoa.”

 

“What?” Octavia jumps from the sudden sound, interrupting the tranquil air they have been sharing.

 

“I don’t remember my mom that night of the festival. I mean I knew she was there, but I don’t remember seeing her dancing and…” she trails, shaking her head.

 

“Yeah I know she was there. What’s your point, Clarke?”

 

“I think… I think I just had a new memory. This doesn’t make any sense,” she furrows her eyebrows. She’s pretty good with remembering things, and she would have definitely remembered that scenic moment before today.

 

She breathes in deeply, trying to make sense of the sudden overwhelming feeling that she’s missing something.

 

And the moment she closes her eyes again, it is as if a film about her life flashes in her mind, bursting in vivid colors, sounds rich and clear.

 

 

_Her mom laughing with Lexa as they sit far away from everyone when they visited Arkadia for the first time together._

_Her mom taking a selfie with a reluctant Lexa during their wedding day._

_Her mom rocking baby Onya to sleep while she and Lexa rested for the night._

_Her mom lifting up Onya as a toddler so she could see through the microscope in the medical lab._

_Her mom smiling contentedly with a cup of coffee in her hand as she watches Clarke, Lexa, and Onya kick a ball around in the field near Arkadia._

Tears stream down her face as she opens her eyes and another onslaught of hidden memories surface in her mind.

 

“Oh my god,” Clarke breathes out.

 

Octavia touches her elbow, “What is it?”

 

Raven says that they can’t use the time machine to change anything. All the events that have happened are meant to be a part of the history all along.

 

Clarke never visited her mom more as she advised her younger self. They haven’t been able to stop Titus. And Lexa is still in a coma.

 

But these memories unlocked in her mind prove that Onya’s trip wasn’t completely in vain.

 

Raven was right. They didn’t change anything. They couldn’t possibly have.

 

But by god, they paid _attention_.

 

And there was something else that happened that night of the festival. There was someone there that Clarke now remembers.

 

“Oh my god,” she says again as she flings the door of the balcony open and runs inside.


End file.
